


Floating Castle

by Penguiduck



Category: Howl no Ugoku Shiro | Howl's Moving Castle, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, Howl's Moving Castle - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Chaptered, Doggy Style, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Kingsbury Academy of Magic, Love Triangles, Making Love, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Sex, Sex Magic, Smut, Unrequited Love, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23889094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguiduck/pseuds/Penguiduck
Summary: Kingsbury Academy of Magic is the most prestigious in all of the lands, and you are at the top of the graduating class.  You think your student struggles are challenging enough — thinking up thesis topics, finding a mentor, figuring out your post-graduation life, avoiding potential suitors — and when a handsome wizard walks into your life, you are fascinated by both him and his magic.To make matters worse?  There's a bounty on his head.[Reader x Howl Pendragon]
Relationships: Howl Pendragon/Reader, Howl Pendragon/You, Original Characters & Reader, Original Male Character/Reader
Comments: 128
Kudos: 588





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> YOU GUYS. I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS.
> 
> This is history. I wrote a "two-shot" called "Floating Castle" about ten years ago as a gift for a dear friend. It was meant to be a one-shot, but I just kept writing and writing, and I had a due date, so I had to put up what I had. I finished and posted the second part later. 
> 
> In reality, this story probably should have been its own chaptered fic because there's a lot of material, but what can you do? :P It was extremely well-received, despite my shoddy teenage writing.
> 
> SO, ten years later, I've decided to rewrite "Floating Castle." This is not an edit -- this is a _full-blown rewrite_ because I want to give this fic the quality it deserves. Howl is too lovely a character to half-ass. I thought now was as good a time as any. I want to give readers a chance to have an escape from this tumultuous world we live in today. I fully believe in the power of reader-inserts!
> 
> This fic is based 100% on the Studio Ghibli film. As pathetic as it sounds, I've actually never read the book. :'D
> 
> I suspect this will be four chapters. _Maybe five_ depending on my pacing and what content appeals to me.
> 
> If you've never read the original, feel free to skip this next part and start enjoying this rewrite. 
> 
> If you've read this before and remember it, you will notice that I swapped out all of our reader character's friends at the academy because they were one-dimensional and annoying. Most notably, Pierre is gone (ugh, I hated him) -- I've replaced him with Philemon, whom you'll meet, who is a far more compelling character. Celeste has been replaced because she is horrible, and Lenora and Thomas are gone because they were so effing contrived it wasn't even funny.
> 
> The reader character has gone through a massive transformation. I've made her sassy and independent so she doesn't seem like a pathetic young adult who's being manipulated by an almost-thirty-year-old wizard who has been known to seduce and jilt girls. She's still a top student in her class, but her story is more believable now. I think you'll find her much must personable, her journey and struggles more relatable. 
> 
> As with any fic, I want to bring you into this world, so I've worked on applying what little we know about this magical world and making it feel real. Obviously, a lot of the magic I'm concocting on my own -- it may not be 100% canon.
> 
> At any rate, I do sincerely hope you enjoy this! <3 Kudos, comments, critiques are welcome!

It has been two years since she left him.

The pain in his heart has not yet ceased. It is only dulled, the knife that cut away at him having lost the sting of its blade.

At first, he felt like he had lost half of himself — the better half of himself. Sophie brought him hope and happiness, giving him the courage to forge an identity in which he could finally take pride. She returned his long-lost heart to him, breathing in him life and the capacity to love.

But he doesn’t need a heart any longer. He has no one to love and no one to love him.

For who could love a slovenly pig? 

His legendary castle is in a state of disarray, his passion for magic and mystery gone. He succumbs to drinking and debauchery in an effort to temper the deep despair, spending many late nights in pubs and brothels. When, and if, he returns home, Calcifer is waiting, his coals burning hot — the fire demon does know whether to scold or pity him.

Markl manages the business day-to-day, selling potions and managing the spells that protect the castle. He is a formidable wizard now, blossoming under Howl’s tutelage. But he would give up all the magic in the world, if only to see his master smile again.

Calcifer is at a loss. He makes snide remarks about the chaos in the castle. He can barely find his firewood among the dust and trash that has piled up, and his hearth is filled with ashes. He misses Sophie, too, but she is gone. 

Before she left, she said she could not handle Howl’s childish antics, his absolute obsession with magic. She felt lonely, waiting up at night for him to leave his laboratory, and she was right — he would spend hours in there, tinkering with his spells and incantations, buried so deeply in his experiments that he forgot the time. She was through with doing his laundry and cleaning the kitchen, feeling like she had been forced into the position of a domestic housewife. She wanted to be an equal partner, but Howl was too consumed with his studies to notice or listen.

Now, she is gone.

And poor Howl must find his way without her.

* * *

“_____? _____, wake up already, will you? We’re going to be late.” 

You roll over with a groan, rubbing your eyes. “What? Oh, Cassandra.” You glance tiredly at your roommate. “What time is it?”

“Nearly 7:30.”

“Oh, we still have forty-five minutes before we need to leave,” you say, having half the mind to sleep for another fifteen minutes.

“But you don’t want to be late for your first day of your _last year_ of class, do you?”

“No, I suppose not.” You sit up, if only to quell Cassandra’s nerves. She is perpetually afraid of being late for anything.

Truthfully, you feel a dash of excitement. This is your sixth and final year of study at the highly regarded Kingsbury Academy of Magic. Assuming your studies go well, you will be graduating next spring, ready and able to join the workforce.

“Have you put any thought into your thesis?” Cassandra asks as she brushes her hair. 

As much as you adore your roommate, she is far too talkative in the morning. “No, not yet,” you say, the same answer you provided to her many times before. “I’m sure I’ll think of something before the end of the year.”

“Oh, no, _____. You need to at least have something in the next couple of weeks. You’ll need to create a proposal, find a mentor, and do the research. Trust me — this isn’t something you can procrastinate on.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say as you gather your things and run to the community showers. After you lather up and rinse, you dry yourself with a flick of your wrist. It is an incantation that must be carefully executed. Otherwise, you risk searing your skin and hair. 

You step over to the sinks, acknowledging the number of young women who are readying themselves for their first day — for most, it is their first day back, and for a few, it is their first day here. There is chatter and laughter, but you don’t stay for it. You return to your room, Cassandra waiting impatiently for you.

You put on your uniform, a modest but form-fitting shirt, vest, and skirt that you have worn every school day these past six years. Next, you pull on your white stockings and calf-length boots, and finish with a cape that you attach to buttons on your vest. With a small sigh, you look in the mirror, pick up a brush, and select a hairstyle.

Cassandra tosses an apple in your direction. “Come on,” she says. “No time for breakfast. We need to get to class before Madame Suliman shows up. You know how she is.”

“Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable,” you cite. “I get it. Let’s go.”

Classes are a short walk away from the dormitories. It is beautiful outside, the summer sun already in the sky, greeting you on your morning stroll. 

While in that moment you prefer a less talkative roommate, Cassandra is chipper, sharing with you what she learned during her internship at home this summer. Her father is a blacksmith by trade, while her mother specializes in runes. They work together to produce the finest armor and weapons, imbued with magical properties — their business is so successful that they have several employees who work for them, providing the Kingsbury Military with equipment.

“Runes,” you say. “Hm, that does seem interesting. I’m sure they’re far more complicated in practice than in class.”

“Well, there are certainly more variables to consider. You have to look at the type of metal you’re carving into. Density, hardness, and overall pliability…”

Her voice fades in your head.

While you enjoy your classes, runes are far less engaging to you than Cassandra. It is a study that is ancient, and most of the research surrounding runes and their applications are complete. You are far more interested in newer sciences and magics, innovations that have subject matters to grow and discover.

“Hey, _____, Cassandra.” 

You look over your shoulder to see Philemon, another sixth-year. He started at the academy with you. Although he has his own group of friends, composed mostly of jocks who laugh a little too much and party a little too hard — in your opinion, of course — he often elects to join your study sessions.

“Good morning, Philemon!” Cassandra says. “Welcome back! I was just telling _____ about my internship at my parents’ company.”

“Oh, that’s neat. Sounds like a fine experience,” he says. “How was your summer, _____?”

“A lot less eventful than Cassandra’s,” you say. “What about yours?”

He walks on your other side, books tucked under one arm, other hand shoved in his pocket. “I traveled,” he says. “I have an uncle who owns his own airships, and he taught me how to fly. Piloting those things is phenomenal — it’s no wonder that magic and machinery have modernized the world. I’ll have to take you flying some time, maybe during winter break.”

“That’s kind of you.” You’re really not interested. “But, as Cassandra has reminded me on multiple occasions” — you give her a teasing glance — “I should probably be working on my thesis.”

“Have you picked a mentor?”

“Not yet.”

Cassandra leans over. “She hasn’t even picked a topic.”

“No?” He grins at you. “Well, if you need a mentor, let me know. My family has connections all over Kingsbury. I’m sure we could find someone to help you.”

“You’re too sweet,” you say. “I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own, though. I think I need to set some time aside and figure out what it is I want to study for a whole year before committing.”

“Well, my offer still stands. Let me know if you need help.” From a distance, his friends call his name. He winks at you. “See you ladies later!”

You look after him, noting how gleefully his fraternity brothers celebrate their return to Kingsbury Academy.

“He likes you,” Cassandra says.

“You think?”

“Oh, stop it, _____. _Philemon_ likes you. Just look at him — he’s _gorgeous,_ isn’t he? I mean, I thought he was cute when we were first-years, but look at how that boy has grown.”

You shrug. “I don’t know, Cassandra. I mean, sure, he’s a good-looking guy. I just don’t think he’s my type.”

“I don’t think you have a type. You haven’t given a guy a single chance since we’ve been here. I bet they sit around in their fraternities, wondering how they can get you to go out on dates with any one of them.”

“No thanks. I prefer substance over style.” You shift your book bag from one shoulder to the other. “Besides, I’d rather focus on my studies. They say the best opportunities are afforded to those who graduate at the top of their classes.”

Cassandra clicks her tongue. “Whatever you say. I guess we’ll see how long it takes before he loses interest in you.”

You have arrived at your first class, and luckily for you, Madame Suliman has yet to enter. You find your seats near the font of the classroom. Even though it is not ideal to be subject to a professor’s questions during a lecture, those brave enough to sit toward the front make a good impression. 

Your friends, Lorena and Tedric, join you. They are twins, even though they look nothing alike.

“How are you two doing?” Cassandra says.

“We’re all right!” Lorena says. “How does it feel to start your final year here at Kingsbury Academy?”

“I can hardly believe it. This has been my home for so long, but I can’t wait to get out into the world.”

Tedric sits down, pulling a quill and parchment from his book bag. “Well, first you have to graduate,” he says. “This year is the hardest for a reason. You need to pass your exams and present a convincing enough thesis — the majority of professors must support your advancement. Only then, are you going to walk away from here with that diploma.”

“Ah,” Cassandra says, pointing a finger at him, “but with that diploma you can do virtually anything you want.”

“I read an article in the newspaper this morning about how Kingsbury Academy of Magic has been ranked the best school for magic for the 70th year in a row,” Lorena says. “That’s since inception. Impressive, hm?”

“And you should be proud to be here,” someone says.

Silence engulfs the room, and not even the shuffling of feet or turning of paper dares interrupt the arrival of your professor and Kingbury’s most powerful sorcerer. She wheels into the room effortlessly, staff in hand. 

You think Madame Suliman was beautiful, having aged gracefully and with dignity.

“Welcome,” she says, her eyes vibrant, her smile kind. “Welcome to the final year of your journey in the finest establishment in Kingsbury. It is not easy to have come this far — your ambition and perseverance have served you well. No doubt, you’ve had many late nights and cups of coffee.” (She earns a few chuckles.) “You are the future of our radiant city, and I am certain you will use this last year as an opportunity to expand your horizons and refine your magic as you discover what you choose to do with your distinguished education.

“For those of you who are not yet sure what your choice of career is, I am searching for a new apprentice. As you know, I serve the King as his Royal Sorcerer, and I would like a student who is passionate about both policy and magic. I encourage you to send me a letter of interest, if you would like to learn more about my selection process.

“With that said, I will be your advanced transfiguration professor this semester. Now, please turn your attention up here and take clear notes.” A piece of chalk floated from the palm of her hand and swept toward the chalkboard. “We will start with a review of your standard transfiguration courses.”

* * *

You already have homework assignments, but studying would have to wait. It is tradition for sixth-years to gather in nearby taverns and bars to kick off their final year of study with a night of drinks and fun. 

Although you are not so interested in a late night out, Cassandra, Lorena, and Tedric bring you to your favorite tavern for dinner to celebrate. “So you can go back and be boring,” Cassandra jokes.

“I’m not opposed to procrastinating,” you say — the first day is usually filled with reviews of previous material anyhow. “I’m just not sure I want to see our classmates drunk beyond comprehension.”

“But I thought you enjoyed people-watching,” Tedric says.

“And drunk students are particularly entertaining,” Lorena says. 

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you say. 

A waitress arrives to take your order. She seems to be in high spirits, the number of attractive young wizards surely a part of her fascination.

“So what do you all think about Madame Suliman’s announcement?” Cassandra says. “Wouldn’t it be great to be her apprentice? You’d be able to learn so much.”

“But if you become her apprentice, what will your parents do with their business?” you say. “I thought they wanted you to inherit it.”

She shrugs. “We’ll just have to see. They’re not retiring for some time, so what’s to say I can’t take an apprenticeship for a few years and then pick up their business?”

“You’re right — I just thought you knew what you wanted to do.” 

“I think everyone’s questioning it now,” Tedric says. “What an opportunity. Are any of you planning on applying?”

“I sure am,” Lorena says. “And I shouldn’t be encouraging it because I don’t need the competition, but I think you all should, too. Madame Suliman doesn’t often look for apprentices, and some of her students are the most successful in the world. Imagine having that experience and tutelage. It’s really quite incredible.”

Cassandra gives you a small push with her shoulder. “What do you say, _____? Want to apply with us? I think it’s perfect for you since you’re not sure what you want to do when you graduate. Applying allows you to keep your options open.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” you say. “If she chose me, I don’t think I could turn down the opportunity.”

“You’re talking about Madame Suliman and her search for her next apprentice, aren’t you?” Philemon pulls up a stool and joins you at the table. “If anyone has a shot at it, I’m guessing it’d be you, _____.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” you say, waving a hand at him.

“I’m not. You’ve been at the top of our class since year one. The numbers don’t lie. Everyone’s been talking about it.”

“I’m sure Madame Suliman is interested in more than just numbers,” you say.

“Well, doesn’t that make you the best candidate still?” Tedric says. “You’re Kingsbury’s top student; you’re involved in debate; you’re in the choir; you lead the community service team; you are a student representative. I’m not sure what else you need to pad your resume, _____, but you have quite a shot at it, I’d think.”

You shake your head, giving your friends a smile. Their compliments make you feel awkward. “But look at all of you — you’re so talented in diverse and amazing ways. We all have our own hobbies and extracurriculars. Besides, I know how particular Madame Suliman is about getting to know her students. I’ve made very little effort in seeking her out. She probably doesn’t even know who I am.”

“That’s easy to fix,” Philemon says. “I can introduce you to her. You can thank me by letting me buy you a drink.”

“It’s really not necessary,” you say. “I don’t even drink that much—”

“She likes a good white sangria,” Cassandra interrupts, giving him a grin. 

This is sabotage. You don’t even bother arguing with her.

“All right, then,” Philemon says, standing up to head to the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

“You can’t keep on rejecting him like this,” your roommate says as soon as he’s out of earshot. “He is so interested in you, and he’s such a nice guy. Give him a chance.”

Lorena seems to agree, leaning across the table. “And how can you say no to that face? He’s _so_ cute.”

Tedric rolls his eyes.

You don’t really want your friends playing matchmaker for you, but it doesn’t seem like you have a choice. “I’ll be right back,” you say, excusing yourself before something comes out of your mouth that you’ll regret.

You run to the washroom for a couple of minutes, and as you walk out, you peek toward your table to see if Philemon had returned. He is still at the bar, waiting to order your drink — the line is a long one.

Relieved for the moment, you step toward the table, your eyes still on the bar. Your lack of attention results in you suddenly bumping into someone. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” you say. “Please excuse me.” It is good that you make your apology swiftly because when your eyes meet, you are speechless.

He is beautiful. His eyes are the truest of blue, like azure skies on a cloudless day, clear and lucid. Blond hair flows elegantly to his shoulders, bangs falling into his eyes in a charming taunt. He wears a bright collared cloak over his elegant shirt, earrings dangling from both ears, a gem on a long chain around his neck.

“My apologies, sweetheart,” he says, his voice seductive and low. He notices your uniform. “Kingsburyʼs Academy of Magic, I see. You must be a talented witch. Sixth-year, by the looks of it, if you’re keeping with tradition.”

“You’re right. It’s the first day of our final year.”

“I remember that celebration, a kickoff for the rest of the year.”

“Oh? You’re alumni?”

“Of course. I graduated several years ago.”

“Wow. What are you doing now?”

His lips curve into a subtle smile. “I’m a jack of all trades, master of none, my dear. I dabble in many arts.”

“You must have a favorite or a speciality.”

“If you’ll have a drink with me, I’m happy to tell you all about my magical adventures.”

You look back at your table. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I can’t. I’m with friends right now, and they’re expecting me. In fact, they probably expected me a lot sooner.”

“Pity.”

“Pity, indeed,” you say, finding yourself grinning.

You feel a touch on your shoulder, only to see Philemon arrive, placing a glass of sangria in your hand. “There you are, _____.” he says. “I was looking for you. Who’s this?”

“Thank you,” you say, deciding to be polite, even though this beverage was hoisted on you. “We just met, actually. He’s alumni of Kingsbury’s.” 

“Is that right?” Philemon says, stiffly, as he snakes an arm around your waist.

“Oh, my apologies,” the stranger says. “I did not realize this lovely lady is yours.”

“I’m not,” you say, giving Philemon an annoyed glance. 

Philemon notices but does not desist. “So who are you, exactly? The alumni list is relatively short as only the most prestigious of students graduate. Maybe we’ve heard of you.”

“My contributions to the academy are minor,” he says. “Nothing of note.”

“I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t have a name,” Philemon says. “Seems rather suspicious that you’re not willing to share yours.”

“I am a fellow wizard — nothing more. In fact, I was on my way out.” He flicks his wrist, a single flower appearing in a trail of sparkles; he presents it to you, a smile in his eyes. “For you, darling. It’s not a drink, but it’ll have to do for now.”

You accept the flower, paying less attention to the gift and more to this beautiful stranger.

He winks at you, taking his leave, turning with a flourish in his cloak. 

“What nerve,” Philemon says, escorting you back to the table.

“What was that all about?” Cassandra asks, taking note of the flower. “He’s so handsome. Where did he come from?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “He is quite charming, though.”

“He’s probably one of those predators,” Philemon says.

“What are you talking about?” Lorena says. “If you’re referring to those wizards that steal girls’ hearts, that’s a myth. No one actually does that.”

“No, probably not,” Tedric says, “but there are definitely sexual predators out there who lure women home with them.”

You inspect the flower as you sip from your glass. “He doesn’t seem like a predator,” you say. “I would think someone with ill intentions would be far less alluring. Conjuration is a complicated field of study — this flower is actually alive and well. He’s clearly very talented, and someone with his looks and skills wouldn’t need to resort to being a creep to pick up women.”

“Whatever,” Philemon says. “I’m just glad he’s gone. He doesn’t belong here anyway — he’s far too old to be hanging around students.”

You aren’t so sure about that. The stranger seems ageless to you, perhaps the result of him being a gifted wizard. No matter. You keep his flower, wondering how this conjured gift would hold up over time.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a lot of thinking to do. You must select a thesis, a mentor, and figure out exactly what you're going to do about Philemon, who seems to want to insert himself into your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. I value concision so much, so I always think my rewrites are going to be shorter, but I also end up adding more content. :'D I do hope my new content is value-added for you guys!
> 
> So, five chapters it is. Hopefully, I can squeeze everything in. lol.
> 
> Thank you for your comments: FannibalToast, jumponthechandelier, and sigil novice!
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter.

It is Friday evening, several days from when you began classes on Monday.

The flower is fascinating. Even without roots, it lives, thriving in a simple jar of water. It continues to bloom. When you breathe in, you smell the sweet and floral perfume. It is in every way a real flower, even if you cannot identify the species.

Every time she sees you studying the flower, Cassandra asks you about the stranger.

“No,” you say, “I really don’t know anything about him.”

“But you wish you did.”

“Maybe.” He really is quite handsome, you think.

“You even like him more than Philemon.” 

“Philemon tries too hard.”

“Of course he does. You’re impossible to please, and he _likes_ you. I wish you’d give him a chance at least.”

You sigh. “We’ve been over this so many times. I just don’t like him that way. He’s fine as a friend, but he’s really not my type.”

“I guess your type is mystery man,” Cassandra says, “especially if you don’t know his name.”

“I wish I knew his name. Then I’d be able to at least find him.”

“Oh, _____. This is your first crush in the years I’ve known you, and it’s just not going to happen. I’m so sorry.”

You shrug. This is all pointless. You had only met him for two minutes, so being smitten makes little sense. “You’re right,” you say. “I should just forget about him. I’m just fascinated by how he’s enchanted this flower. I’d certainly like to ask him about how he did it.”

“Maybe one day you’ll meet him again at that tavern, and you can chat with him to your heart’s content.”

“I doubt it.” And you really should be focusing on your studies. Madame Suliman’s apprenticeship application is due soon, and you need to figure out a thesis topic. Everyone you know has already decided on a dissertation topic, and many professors have committed to acting as mentors. Your list of options is growing thin.

“Are you coming tonight?” Cassandra says. 

“I think I’m going to the library,” you say. “I do need to figure out my thesis.”

“I told you to get started on it sooner.”

“Well, I’m clearly bad at listening.” You throw a few scrolls of parchment into your book bag. “You guys have fun. I’ll probably be pulling a late night, so don’t wait up for me.”

“If you do end up finishing early, you’re welcome to join us. We’re going to the Thirsty Mustang again, so maybe you’ll bump into your mystery man.”

“Hah,” you say. “I think I’m over him, but thanks for the offer.” You start off toward the library, weaving through the halls of your dormitory and stepping outside. You breathe in the cool evening air, the setting sun drenching the skies in a palette of pastels. 

The library is a short walk away, open to students twenty-four hours a day. Depending on the time of year and the day of the week, the number of students fluctuates. It is the beginning of a new year and the first Friday — there is almost no one here, to your gratification.

You find your favorite study room. It is on the fourth floor, tucked away in the corner, large windows overlooking the city settled above a reading nook. This is the best place to think, and pore over books and scrolls.

You set your book bag on a chair, emptying its contents on the large table.

“_____?”

You look over your shoulder. “Philemon,” you say. “What are you doing here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here on a Friday.”

He stepped closer, peering around the study room. “I don’t think I have ever been here on a Friday. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been on the fourth floor.”

“I feel like Mu Alpha Gamma always has something going on weekend evenings. Don’t they need you to be there? You’re the sitting president, aren’t you?”

He smooths his dark hair, hand running from the back of his head to his neck. “Yeah, I told them I’d be a little late.”

“What for?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes? How can I help you?”

“I’d like to take you out to dinner. You’ve helped me so much these past five years hosting study sessions and tutoring me, and I don’t think I’ve ever officially thanked you.”

“Oh, it’s really nothing,” you say, turning back to your studies. “I’m happy to help.”

He grasps your hand, gracing it with a kiss — it is a customary gesture, though often lost in contemporary student culture. “Please,” he says, his eyes glimmering hopefully. “Let me do this for you.”

You think back to what Cassandra and Lorena are always telling you: You never give Philemon a chance. He really is a gentleman, always polite and prompt, not just to you, but to other students as well. He often studies with you and takes part in your volunteer projects and initiatives. He’s sharp and has even tutored you on your weaker subjects. And, truthfully, he is attractive, a youthful and athletic charm about him. Maybe you are too hard on him as a potential bachelor.

“All right,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

He smiles, kissing your hand again. “Tomorrow night? Are you free?”

You give him a small laugh. “Sure, if Mu Alpha Gamma can do without you.”

“I think they’ll manage. Goodnight, _____. Good luck with your thesis.”

“Thank you, Philemon. Have fun with your fraternity.” You watch him walk away, noticing the spring in his step. You understand your acceptance makes him a happy man, and you wonder how you’ll like him, now that you’ve changed your perspective.

You sit at the table, jotting down ideas on your parchment. You’ll narrow them down and then search through the library for the necessary resources to make your final decision.

As you’re writing, you hear a few taps on the window. You turn, and your breath catches in your throat. 

The handsome stranger from the tavern is floating in the air, his cloak fluttering in the gentle evening breeze. He waves to you, an expression of mellow confidence in his eyes.

You are stunned, subconsciously waving back. 

He flicks his hand toward the window, and the latch comes undone. He pulls the window open with a second gesture and steps inside. When his feet touch the ground, he gives you a head tilt. “No, hello, darling?” he says.

“Sorry,” you say, finding your words. “I just wasn’t expecting you here.”

“Were you expecting me at all?”

You shake your head. “Was I supposed to?”

He steps away from you, scanning the study room. “I remember this place. I used to study here as well. You see those burn marks in the floorboards? That was an experiment gone wrong.”

“Does the headmaster know you’ve damaged school property?”

“If the headmaster knew all of my antics, this would be the least of his worries.”

“So what are you doing here?” you ask.

“I wanted to offer you that drink.”

In your five years here, you have had many men offer to buy you drinks — none of them came looking for you in the library to do so. You are impressed by his persistence. “I really shouldn’t,” you say. “I need to get this work done. I’ve procrastinated long enough.”

He peeks over your shoulder, scanning through your listed ideas. “Ah, your senior thesis. I did mine on the conjuration of organic matter.”

“I wanted to ask you about that,” you say. “That flower you gave me. It’s still in perfect condition, just like it was on Monday evening. How did you do that?”

“Do you really expect a wizard to divulge all his secrets to you before learning your name?”

“I hope you don’t think me rude, but I was hoping you’d introduce yourself first, especially since you’re the one who offered to buy me a drink.”

“Ah, you are right, sweetheart.” He swept an elegant bow, cloak flowing elegantly behind him. “I am Howl Pendragon.” 

“Pendragon?” 

“You’ve heard of me. I am flattered.”

“Madame Suliman certainly has a lot to say about you.”

“Are you inclined to believe everything she says?”

“She’s the King’s Royal Sorcerer, highly regarded for her magical knowledge and prowess. If not her, then who am I to believe?”

“I recommend yourself, darling.” 

You watch him, taking note of the bewitching blue in his eyes. They glint and soften, ciphers lost within their profound depths, luring you to partake in their mysteries.

“All right, Mr. Pendragon. I can be open-minded, but that doesn’t change the fact that I need to figure out my thesis topic.”

“Howl, please.” He snatches the parchment from the desk. “I can assist with that,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Who is your mentor?”

“Well, I was hoping to find a topic first. That should help me narrow down the possibilities for a mentor.”

His long eyelashes flutter as he returns to the list. “The confirmation biases of astrology? The diminishing effects of herbology? The benefits of anthropomorphism?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I know.” You force a laugh. “They’re horrible. There’s a reason why I’m here on a Friday night.”

He sets the parchment down. “I think there are far more interesting subject matters that can serve you better.”

“Like what?”

Howl steps toward the open window. “Have you ever tried levitation, my dear?”

“We studied it last year as a fun exercise. The physics of it are simple enough, but not one student was able to levitate longer than ten seconds, and we certainly weren’t graceful doing it. Why do you ask?”

“Because levitation is one of my specialities. There is nothing quite like the freedom that flying brings.”

“I don’t know if I’m brave enough,” you say, looking out the window. “I could barely do it under strict supervision in the classroom.”

“You’ve never sailed with me, sweetheart,” He offers you his arm. “How would you like a stroll by moonlight, leaving the drudgery of academic study behind, if only for a moment?”

“But my thesis—”

“Ah ah,” he says, leaning in close. You can feel his warm breath on your ear. “I said I’d help you, didn’t I? Now, let me buy you that drink, and we can talk all about magic.”

You glance at your book bag. “I don’t know, Howl.” 

“Perhaps you prefer frat boys.” He says this well-naturedly, but you can’t help refuting his point.

“It’s funny,” you say. “I suppose you saw that whole interaction with Philemon, then. I’ve never once accepted a date with anyone, and you happen to witness it for the first time. What does that say about you, slinking around the academy like a common criminal?”

Howl chuckles, offering you his arm again. “That is what they would have you believe, isn’t it? Well, then, if you don’t prefer frat boys and you’re interested in a drink and a lesson in levitation, I do believe accepting my offer would be advantageous to us both.”

It is a risk. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. 

Howl Pendragon. He was once Madame Suliman’s student. He made a deal with a fire demon to enhance his own mastery of magic, giving away his very heart. He was selfish and cowardly, escaping multiple summons from the King when the country was at war. 

Yet, this man does not seem so bad, even if there is a bounty on his head. 

You realize how irrational this is. You meet him once, enchanted by his suave mannerisms and elegant features. He offers to buy you a drink and seeks you out. This is a disaster waiting to happen — yet, you cannot help but wonder why he might consider you special. Why pursue you above all the women in Kingsbury?

This seems like an adventure. You enjoy your studies, but after a while, you are consumed by the mundane. Only the subject matter changes. Your friends are wonderful, but your schedule is the same week after week. You could do with a little excitement.

Besides, you tell yourself you need his expertise for your own education. If you are to graduate at the top of your class, you require additional resources. Despite the misdeeds and flaws Madame Suliman has claimed regarding Howl Pendragon, she holds his talents in high esteem. Could you do any better?

“I think you’re right,” you say, sliding your hand into the crook of his arm. “This may be our happy compromise.”

He is warm as he leads you to the window. “May I know your name, love?” he says, guiding you onto the nook.

You look at him from your elevated position, deciding to take a chance. “_____,” you say.

He brings your hand to his lips. “_____,” he says as he kisses it. He joins you on the nook, peeking out of the window. “The night is young, _____. Let’s be off.”

You peer from the window sill to the ground below, swallowing nervously. It is a far drop from the fourth floor to the ground.

“You remember the incantation?” he says. 

You shake your head, eyes widening at the thought of leaping into the air. “If I did, I don’t anymore.”

Howl’s hand is on your waist, preventing you from backing away. With his free hand, he holds yours. “Best leave it to me, sweetheart, at least to start. We can’t have you falling now, can we?” His touch is firm and confident, and he pushes you toward the window.

Your stomach turns as you take your first step. You expected to fall, having not prepared your own incantation, but your feet feel as though they are on solid ground. You realize his magic has enveloped you.

It is challenging enough to maintain one’s own levitation spell, but to have it cast over someone else at the same time is quite a feat. Only the most talented of wizards and witches may accomplish this.

Your gaze turns to the city, the light of the evening bustle shining from every lamp and window.

“Where to?” Howl says.

“Wherever you want,” you say. “Preferably away from the academy, unless you want to be caught. We have staff everywhere, and someone’s bound to recognize you.”

“Ah, yes. Many of your professors were mine, I assume.”

“Just how long ago did you graduate?”

“This year will be the ninth.”

“So if you were my age when you graduated, that means you’re thirty-one.”

“I graduated two years early.”

“Twenty-nine, then.”

“Do I look it, love?” He leans over your shoulder, giving you a beguiling grin.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve never been apt at guessing the ages of older men.”

“Quite all right,” he says. “It’s a rather impractical skill when you live among other students. Perhaps a night away from the academy will freshen your mind, provide some perspective.”

And before you know it, you are flying through the skies. Not only has Howl mastered the art of levitation, but he also knows how to fly, how to manipulate the forces as to propel himself forward. He carries you on this invisible cloud — you feel your body supported by his magic, the cool night air streaking through your hair. 

You are timid at first, watching the city pass below you, having nothing to catch you if you should fall. 

But you glance at Howl, recognizing the fascination in his eyes. He must fly often, and still, he finds it so alluring. “Relax,” he says as if reading your mind. “I won’t let you fall.”

Although the very idea of levitation with such high stakes is frightening, there is a piece of you, the curious academic, that wants to experiment. This is the nature of magic, after all; it is captivating and mysterious. You long to understand the answers. “Can I try?” you ask.

“Aren’t you feeling brave? You’re nearly a hundred feet off the ground.”

“You said you wouldn’t let me fall. Or did you change your mind?”

Howl gives you a sly look, slowing to a halt. “Very well,” he says, and he provides the spoken incantation.

You take a breath as you stare at the land below — it seems you are several blocks over from the academy. At this point, you are far enough away that students are unlikely to be venturing here. You close your eyes, repeating the spell. 

“Very good,” Howl says. “Ready?”

You nod, and you speak the incantation as clearly as you can. You feel the magic well up in your body, flowing through your medium — for you, it is a ring you wear around your right middle finger, the physical channel through which you are able to summon your craft. All magic-users require a medium, and they can take many different forms. The more powerful the medium, the stronger and more advanced the spell.

You feel Howl slowly release you. The spell never leaves your mind. You must concentrate and cycle through it to maintain your ability to levitate. You stand perfectly still, managing to hold your position, and you do not dare look down.

“Excellent.” He paces around you, walking in the air.

You admire his grace, his expert control over every movement, but you do not dare give him too much attention. 

“For someone who has never levitated for longer than ten seconds, you are a fast learner.” His hands are on his hips, cloak wavering in the wind. “And how do you feel about moving?”

“I’ve never done it before,” you manage to say, your heart pounding in your chest.

“It’s simple. Keep the incantation in your head. Make minor adjustments for each step forward. Your right foot and left foot will require identical but inverse directions.”

You swallow, but you give it a try, following his instructions. Slowly, you lift your right foot, moving it forward, maintaining the incantation on your left. When you cannot find your balance, unable to know for certain you can hold your own weight in this new position, you return your foot to where it was before. You exhale.

“Baby steps, darling,” Howl says.

You make a second attempt, your step shorter in length this time. You manage to find your footing, shifting your weight from your left foot to your right foot. You breath in. This is not so bad. You do it again. And again. The incantation becomes easier to you, the mental calculations feeling more and more familiar.

Your confidence improves, and you turn to look at Howl, a smile on your face. “Look!” you say. “I’m levitating _and_ walking.”

He applauds you, clapping his hands. “I believe a congratulatory drink is in order.”

In your glee, you make a miscalculation as you try to follow him. You feel your stomach turn as you begin to fall.

Your plunge is short-lived. Howl catches your hand just in time, and his magic surrounds you. It feels warm and gentle as it pulls you back, bringing you closer to him. “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall, didn’t I?”

You feel so relieved, your body chilled and shaken. “You know,” you say, “for a criminal, you’re pretty considerate.” It no longer is strange that you’re holding his arm.

He gives you an amused glance, wrapping his cloak around your shoulders. “Your sass aside, I still think you deserve a drink.” He flies you the remainder of the way to a tavern clear on the other side of Kingsbury.

You share a nice dinner, and to your mild surprise, you fall for his wit and charm. He is beautiful and charismatic, fashionable and clever. He shares with you more about levitation, going as far as drawing out the incantation on a napkin to show you where you went wrong.

You are absolutely enchanted.

He flies you back to your dormitory late that night. There is a small balcony on the third floor, the railing made of alabaster stone, vines weaving around each pillar. A set of doors, notable for their marked craftsmanship, leads inside. The room you shared with Cassandra is just down the hallway.

He guides you down, waiting for your feet to touch the balcony before joining you.

“Thank you,” you say, looking away shyly. This is, in fact, your very first date. Howl beat Philemon to it.

Howl flicks his wrist, not unlike how he did so when you first met, and he produces a flower more stunning than the last. It is a white rose, petals perfectly folded, dewdrops sparkling like diamonds under the moon. “For you, my darling,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Dream sweet dreams tonight.”


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally decide on a thesis topic, and you find yourself a mentor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I _think_ I can finish this in five chapters? I know you can't see it, but I'm making a really skeptical face right now. lol.
> 
> I'd like to finish this asap because I don't usually write in present tense and it's really stealing my past tense writing thunder. XDDD Switching between past and present is haaaaard, you guys.
> 
> Thank you to silgil novice, Chetto, and FannibalToast for the comments! <3
> 
> As always, please enjoy! <3 Thank you for reading!

Howl is acting differently, Calcifer notices. There is a… bounce in his step, if he dares to call it that. 

Tonight, Howl is not out drinking himself under the table, a woman hanging off of each arm. He is refreshingly sober, at home, and working in his laboratory. 

“What do you think it is?” Markl asks. He notices it, too.

“I don’t know, kid,” Calcifer says. “He hasn’t acted like this… ever. Not to my knowledge. Maybe he found a new incantation to unravel.”

“Maybe he made up with Sophie.”

“I doubt it. If he made up with Sophie, don’t you think she’d come back and see us?”

Markl frowns. “Maybe another lady?”

“Howl doesn’t feel that way about women.”

“He felt that way about Sophie.”

“Sophie was different. She put up with him better than anyone else. You think someone would just come along and fall in love with that stupid face when he’s drowning it in whiskey?”

Markle shrugs. “Women are weird, all right?”

“You said it.” 

Howl saunters down the stairs, searching through a collection of scrolls and old books near the dining room table.

Calcifer’s flame burns a little hotter. “You hungry, pal?” he says. “Markl was just about to start on some breakfast.”

“Later, perhaps,” Howl says. “Do you happen to know where that scroll on levitation is, Markl? The original copy by Larkins and its variations?”

Markl joins him in his search. “Why do you need it?” he says. “You already know how to fly.”

“It’s not for me.”

“Far be it from me to be nosy,” Calcifer starts, “but who’s it for, then?”

“A student at Kingsbury’s Academy of Magic.”

“Is she pretty?”

Howl glances at the fire demon, a secret in his eyes. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business. But, yes, she’s quite pretty.”

* * *

It is morning.

“You must have had quite the late night at the library,” Cassandra says as she applies her makeup. “Did you find a thesis topic?”

“I think so,” you say. “I had to do a lot of research, but I think I’m going to study levitation, perhaps how it translates into flying.”

“Levitation? You’ve always hated levitation.”

“Well, my other options weren’t so engaging. As difficult as it is, levitation is at least somewhat interesting — and it’s practical.”

“Not all wizards and witches have to be able to levitate. Unless you’re traveling frequently or going off into battle, I feel like the effort you pour into learning how to levitate or fly probably isn’t worth it. I’m sure most magic-users don’t even bother.”

“You’re right,” you say, “but if I’m going to apply for that apprenticeship position, I should at least look somewhat ambitious, don’t you think?”

Cassandra nods. “I suppose that makes sense. All right, then. What about your mentor?”

“I’m still figuring that part out.”

“You’d better figure out that part fast, too. I’m not sure there are any professors left here who understand levitation well enough to mentor you in it. I mean, Professor Arche is already mentoring four students I know of, and Professor Dugan is mentoring at least five. I’m not sure who else would be qualified.”

“I’m sure I’ll find someone, even if I have to look outside of the academy.”

“Why don’t you talk with Philemon? He’s the one with all of the connections.”

You sigh. “I might just have to.”

“You act like it’s such a bad thing. I think most girls would love to have a reason to talk to him.” 

You remember what happened last night. “I have a date with him tonight,” you say, figuring it was better for you to tell Cassandra than for her to find out through the grapevine — she would never forgive you.

“You WHAT?” She drops her brush, turning around to give you a giddy expression. “He finally asked you out, and you said yes! Oh, I’m so happy for you, _____. I know he’ll be a wonderful boyfriend, if you’d just give him a chance.”

“We’re going on a dinner date. We’re not official or anything.”

“Just you wait,” she says, a knowing glance in her eyes. “He’s a charming one, that Philemon.”

“I’ll be open-minded, but that’s it. I’m not going to force a relationship just because you want it to happen.”

“That’s fair. I just think he’ll grow on you.”

“We’ll see, Cass. We’ll see.” 

That afternoon, you return to the library to fetch your book bag, hoping no one noticed you had left it there. You doubt anyone would be there Saturday morning, and you are right.

It is refreshing, some time to yourself. You are able to reflect on the events of last night and how they might play out. Although you’d never admit it to Cassandra, you are not particularly looking forward to your evening with Philemon. 

Not after your stroll in the skies with Howl.

You had never felt so intrigued. Howl inspired you to study levitation as your thesis — and that was quite a feat! 

You wonder for a moment if he would act as your mentor if you asked him. You could keep his identity a secret or even forge a new name for him. It is a risk, but so is Howl coming around the academy to find you.

Despite having no assurances, you know in your heart you will see him again. You gather your notes, sliding them into your book bag, and you close the window you stepped from last night, remembering the feeling of levitation. 

Howl is right. It is liberating, a magical high that you aren’t sure you’ll be able to replace.

And only he can teach you. Howl Pendragon, as dangerous as he may be, is talented, his skills unparalleled by even some of your professors.

It is widely known that Madame Suliman considers him her most gifted student, but she also condemns his narcissism, his disregard for authority, his blatant lack of conviction. She will not hesitate to have him convicted for his abandonment and misdeeds.

But you realize there are two sides to every story, and you have yet to hear Howl’s. He must know just how much peril he is putting himself in by straying so close to Kingsbury’s Academy of Magic. 

You recite in your head what you might say to him the next time you meet.

Of course, you also wonder what he sees in you, a twenty-two-year-old student who is in her final year at his alma mater. Your advanced transfiguration professor was his master at one point, and now she would like to see him punished for his indiscretions. It is in his best interest to stay far away from you.

Howl must know that. 

Then, why risk everything? 

You can’t put your finger on it. Surely, there are other women he can woo — they may be prettier, smarter, more receptive than you. You are inexperienced in the art of romance, and it must show.

When you break it down, he sounds exactly like a sexual predator. He is handsome and charming, a known criminal, and pursuing a young, inexperienced woman. You laugh to yourself.

You have no evidence that he is not, but you feel in your heart of hearts that there is more to him than meets the eye.

This situation is clearly complicated. As you spend the rest of your afternoon rummaging through all available resources on levitation, Howl is in the back of your mind.

* * *

In the evening, Philemon takes you out, bringing you to a restaurant that most of the population would only reserve for special occasions. 

“I hope you don’t think this is too pretentious,” he says. “My brother recommended it. I’ve never been here before.”

“No, no,” you say, “I think it’s lovely.”

He sits across from you, looking rather dapper in his suit and tie. “So Cassandra tells me you’ve chosen something to do with levitation for your thesis.”

“Word travels fast when she’s at the helm, hm?”

He laughs. “She does like to gossip a little, doesn’t she?” 

“Yes, I selected levitation. I think I might work on mastering it, as much as one can in two semesters anyway, and write a dissertation on how levitation evolves into flying.”

“That’s brave,” he says. “I remember how much I struggled with it last year. I could barely get my feet off the ground for more than five seconds. You’ll have to be careful, _____. The last thing you need is to fall while you’re experimenting with levitation spells.”

“Agreed.”

“If you need someone to help, I’m happy to assist.”

“You’re too kind,” you say as you sip on your water, “but I certainly wouldn’t want to distract you from your studies. What is your thesis?”

“I’m quite fortunate. I was able to convince Madame Suliman to be my mentor. I’ll be doing research on the long-lasting effects of metamorphosis.”

“Oh, wow. That does sound interesting. And you couldn’t have a better mentor for that subject.”

“The most talented magic-user in all of Kingsbury? I would think not.” 

“Sounds like you have a pretty good shot at the apprenticeship, then.” 

“It’s up in the air, _____. I don’t think we’ll have any idea whom she’ll select. She probably sees potential in a different way than we do. I assume you are still applying?”

You shrug. “I filled out the application this afternoon, but I’m not so sure whether or not I want to submit it.”

Your food arrives, the servers placing your dishes in front of each of you. They also refill your drinks.

Philemon thanks them before turning back to you. “_____, you’re one of the most talented students here. I think it’d be unfortunate if you didn’t at least submit the application. See what happens, and if you find another opportunity that suits you better, you can always choose. Leave your options open.”

“That’s good advice, actually.”

“Why don’t you come by her office during lunch on Monday? I’ll be there to discuss my thesis with her, and I can formally introduce you. You can submit your application then.”

You look at him, noting how eager he is to help you. Part of you wishes you were more attracted to him. Cassandra is right that he would make a wonderful boyfriend. He is clever and thoughtful, and has plenty of resources at his fingertips as he comes from a long line of wizards and witches. 

“I’ll be there,” you say. “Thank you for your help.” 

Philemon smiles at you. “Maybe we can get you a mentor while we’re at it.”

“I doubt Madame Suliman will want to mentor a student she doesn’t even know.”

“Well, even if not, she might be able to recommend someone. It can’t hurt to have her support.”

You laugh quietly. “You’re very good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Networking. It’s not one of my strengths, but it seems to come easily to you.”

“My parents taught me a lot about people and building relationships with them. It’s how you forge trust. You can’t just go to someone when you need a favor from them — the relationship has to be nurtured long before that.”

“I see,” you say. “It makes perfect sense. I guess I and probably a lot of people just don’t practice it as well as you do.”

“It’s never too late to start.”

For the remainder of the evening, you enjoy dinner and each other’s company. When you return to the academy, your hand tucked in his arm, you walk into the dormitories together. 

“Thank you for tonight,” Philemon says. “I had a great time.”

“No, thank you. I did, too,” you say. You aren’t lying — Philemon is a gifted conversationalist, and you can think of many others with whom you would rather not spend a meal.

“I hope we may do this again.” He kisses your hand. “Goodnight, _____.”

“Goodnight.” You return to your room. Cassandra and Lorena are there, giggling as you enter. They practically smother you for the details.

* * *

You spend Sunday studying levitation, poring over books and scrolls. There are a number of variations to the basic incantation. Certain spells work better for certain magic-users than others — you have to find what most easily comes to you.

The chalkboard in the study room is covered in formulas and notes. The adjustments to the levitation spells, what you have to recalculate with each movement, are what make it complicated. You need to understand them forward and backward before attempting to walk on air again.

You are alone right now. Sunday mornings are generally quiet, but after lunchtime, the library begins to fill with students who now require a place to complete their assignments. You are trying to get as much out of a silent study room as you can before the library becomes the academy’s most popular destination.

You hear a gentle knock at the open door. You look behind you. “Howl?” He is dressed as casually as a student would be on a weekend — a simple shirt, jacket, and slacks with a brimmed hat. He blends in perfectly. “What are you doing here?”

He removes the hat. “I came to see you, my darling.” 

“Clearly,” you say. “But what are you doing here? You could get caught.”

“Professors don’t roam the campus on weekend mornings, and no student would recognize me. I do believe we’re safe.”

“My friends would probably recognize you.”

“Oh, but they don’t know who I am. I trust you’ve kept my secret?”

“Of course, Howl. But that doesn’t mean they won’t ask questions.”

“I would expect nothing less. You are young, inquiring minds, after all.” He steps past you, studying the chalkboard. “My, you’ve done some work.” He gestures toward a specific formula. “This one dates back to the twelfth century, created by the wizard Sanders. Later, his apprentice Larkins further improves it, upon King Edmund IV’s request. This is the backbone of what most modern wizards now use for levitation.”

“I’ve been trying to refine it to something I can use,” you say. “It’s been a long morning.”

“I think you’ll appreciate what I’ve brought for you.” Howl removes a scroll from the book bag slung over his shoulder. “This is an original, love. I expect it back in pristine condition.”

“What is it?”

Howl opens the scroll, spreading it on the table, using several books to weigh down its corners.

Your jaw nearly drops. “I can’t believe you have this. Larkins’s original scroll on levitation and its derivatives? This is amazing.” You lean over it, studying the fine ink strokes. The amount of history and prestige this scroll contains is phenomenal.

“I thought you’d like it.” 

“But that doesn’t change anything,” you say. “You still shouldn’t be here.”

“And why not? I thought you might benefit from a lesson.”

You give him a knowing glance, unable to argue with him. You really can use his help. With a sigh, you begin to roll up the scroll, pausing only to scan a few notes at the bottom. “What’s this?”

“Directions to the Floating Castle.”

“The Floating Castle? That’s a legend, a bedtime story that you tell children.”

He raises an eyebrow, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Is it?”

You pause. “That’s what I’ve always been told.”

“I know what your problem is, sweetheart,” he says, offering you his arm as he gathers up the scroll. “You listen to the wrong people.”

“You really think there’s such a thing as the Floating Castle?”

“I don’t think; I know.”

“Great. You’re a wizard, a criminal, and you’re insane.”

“I normally shun the non-believers, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He gently pulls you to the window. “Are you ready, love?”

“Ready for what? I didn’t agree to an outing. Besides, it’s not safe for you. You wandering around on your own probably won’t attract any attention, but if you’re seen with me, people might start wondering who you are.”

He flicks his wrist, and the windows open. “It’s perfectly safe,” he says, “especially if no one can see us.”

He is referring to an invisibility spell, of course. Smart, but maintaining an invisibility spell while flying with two people is complicated.

You channel your magic through your ring, whispering the incantation — truthfully, invisibility is far more complicated than most people realize. There is no magic that can make a solid object immediately transparent. Instead, it is an exercise in bending light, which manipulates the perception of others. It must be carefully cast and preserved, made more difficult with movement as light may change with activity. The best practice is to wear a large cloak or blanket over your head to maintain a consistent surface.

But, fortunately, people only see what they wish to see. An escape from the fourth floor window of the library isn’t likely on the list of priorities for students on a Sunday morning. The invisibility spell only needs to buy you enough time to leave campus.

“Very good,” Howl says, and you feel the touch of his magic enveloping your body.

You follow him out of the window, stepping lightly onto the open air. His magic takes effect, and you are strolling through the skies. You recite the invisibility incantation in your head, making minor adjustments as you leave the shadow of the library rooftop and enter the sunlight.

Your hand is on his arm, and he walks to the northeast, where there is a vast expanse of wilderness below the foot of the mountains. You let the invisibility spell fade away as you climb higher where you are only a speck in the sky.

The walk is a leisurely one, and Howl flies for the remainder of your journey to shorten travel time.

“This place is beautiful,” you say, admiring the miles of green as far as the eye can see.

“A break from the bustle of the city. And a private place to practice your magic, away from prying eyes.” He looks at you. “Shall we, my darling?”

The afternoon is spent on levitation. You are able to practice under his careful supervision, and he corrects your mistakes. He knows exactly where you go wrong, whether it's an error in calculation, a slight mispronunciation, or a lack of efficiency on your part. 

“Perhaps you may benefit from a slight variation on the incantation,” he says, and he explains the adjustments.

You are listening, but his words are just words. You feel his warm breath on your ear and smell the notes of tea tree, jasmine, and sandalwood. His eyes are particularly vibrant when you see them with the open skies behind him. He is fascinating, his earrings dangling and sparkling with each tip of his head. His movements are graceful and confident, blond bangs drifting into his face as a breeze whisks through. 

“Do you give your professors such undivided attention?” he asks, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

You struggle to maintain your levitation spell, nearly tripping over your feet. “Sorry,” you say. “I was distracted.”

Howl steps in front of you, leaning in so you must tilt your head up to look at him. “Distractions are dangerous, love, especially when you’re a hundred feet in the air.”

Your sass gets the better of you. “Then, maybe you should consider not being a distraction.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers, “you should know I can’t help myself.” He closes the short distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a decisive kiss.

You feel your hold on the incantation slipping, but not before Howlʼs magic takes its place, securing your body in the air. He reaches for you, hands on your waist and pulls you closer. 

You lean into him, the rapture of his physical presence taking hold. It brings you comfort, being held and caressed by him, and even if this is your first kiss — with a fugitive, no less — it feels natural and right.

Howl releases you, and you both float gently to the ground, the spell ending. He watches you as he breaks away, stroking your cheek with his fingers.

“Howl?” you say, feeling that there is no time like the present.

“Mm?” he hums.

“Would you consider being my thesis mentor?”


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover that this Floating Castle you've heard so much about in fairy tales is real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! 
> 
> So, part 5 is written. I should be able to conclude this with part 6. ^_^ Excited to share more with you! <3 Please enjoy! Always, comments and kudos are appreciated.
> 
> Thank you to those who left comments on the last chapter: FannibalToast, E.Parker, SadPrinceyCreativity, kanji_jumanji, and sigil novice!

It is Monday. You meet Madame Suliman and Philemon in her office during lunch.

“Hello, _____,” Madame Suliman says as she waves you in. Her office features many trinkets and tools of magical persuasion. “Philemon said you’d be coming by today. It’s good to officially meet you.” 

You curtsy. “Yes, Professor,” you say. “I’ve enjoyed your advanced transfiguration class so far. I’ve always found permanency spells to be fascinating, if a little risky. We know just enough to be dangerous.”

“As sixth-years, I’d expect a little caution from you. There are plenty of dangerous things to come. Now, then, I hear you might be interested in my apprenticeship?”

“That’s right. I don’t have any other plans after graduation. More than anything, I’d like to continue my education to advance my skill sets.”

“She’s involved in the community, Professor,” Philemon says. “She enjoys helping people. As the King’s Royal Sorcerer, I thought your teachings would be most fitting.”

“Oh, is that right?” Madame Suliman says. “There is nothing more noble than service to Kingsbury and its throne. The King is a servant of the people, and as such, we are his vassals. Our magic-users fulfill many capacities, from researching and developing new innovations to creating weapons so we may fend off our enemies. Public service is not an easy path, but I can easily say that nothing brings me more pride.”

You nod. “I think I may be interested in learning more. Here is my application.”

“Very good,” she says, skimming through the parchment. “I have arranged a day trip to the castle with the other applicants this weekend for a tour. I hope you will be able to attend?”

“Oh, yes,” you say. “That sounds quite exciting! Thank you for arranging it, Professor.”

“Your application looks promising, _____.” 

“I hope it’s not too lengthy.”

She looks up at you and gives you a gentle smile. “I only ask that all the information is pertinent. You have quite a resume. I will have to read this in more detail at a later date.”

“Thank you for the opportunity, professor. I should get going. I know Philemon has his thesis to discuss with you.”

“Have you found a mentor for yours, _____?” Philemon asks.

“I have, thank you. Good day!” You leave before they could ask any other questions.

* * *

The weekend arrives quickly enough, and your tour of the castle was magnificent. So many royal mages and sorcerers work there, and it sparks your interest. You have never seen such innovation and productivity.

“Oh, Howl,” you say, when he whisks you away that evening, “I couldn’t believe my eyes. There are wizards who are trying to purify seawater so during periods of drought, the people will still have water to drink. There is a research team who is transfiguring crops so that they may grow in whatever season we need them to, immune to pests and weather. And while we couldn’t see the details up close, there are many flying machines that are assisted in their mechanisms by magic. There’s so much going on behind those castle walls.”

“You enjoy the novelty of it all.”

“I do. Is this all something you’ve seen before?”

“More or less.”

“That’s right. I’d almost forgotten — you studied with Madame Suliman for a time. How long were you with her?”

“Five years. I graduated from Kingsbury two years early and began training with her thereafter.”

“What was your experience like?”

Howl sighs as he rolls his eyes up in thought. “She is a great sorcerer. Her mind is sharp and inventive, cunning and tenacious.”

“I get a sense that you don’t like her very much.”

“Why would you accuse me of that?” He smiles at you. “I left her because I found power elsewhere — unrestrained and pure. Madame Suliman may be skilled in her craft, but she is self-righteous and arbitrary. She would never have approved of my contract with Calcifer.”

“Calcifer?” 

“My friend.”

“The fire demon, you mean?”

He chuckles. “Oh, my dear, he’s harmless.”

“I think they’re called demons for a reason, Howl.” 

“Well, this demon has nestled in my fireplace for years now.”

“They say you gave him your heart. Did you?”

“I kept him alive in exchange for knowledge and power. Rest assured, it was mutually beneficial.”

“You know,” you say, “there’s a summoning elective I might choose to take next semester. I’ve always thought contracts were fascinating, especially with extraplanar or supernatural beings.”

“Would you like to meet him?”

“Calcifer?” You think to yourself for a moment. “That would mean…”

“Yes, joining me in my home.”

You aren’t opposed, even though this goes against the prevailing custom. A gentleman normally courts his lady of choice for many months before offering a proposal, asking first her father for her hand in marriage. It is inappropriate for a lady to visit a man privately in his home before an announcement of their intent to marry — and even after, and before the ceremony, it’s a slippery slope.

But you suppose your relationship with Howl is a unique one. There is nothing traditional about this, your fraternization with a criminal.

“I think it sounds exciting,” you say, taking his arm. Your thirst for knowledge often dictates your choices, and he was offering you an opportunity that you may not have again. “What is he like?”

“Patience, love,” he says. “You’ll meet him soon.” Howl’s magic begins to grow, and you feel it engulf your body in warmth.

Your feet leave the ground, and you rise up toward the night sky.

The moon has just risen, providing enough light by which to navigate. The evening air is crisp and cool, and it smells of verdant grass just outside of the city. You feel the chill, and Howl brings you closer, sharing his cloak with you. You fly and fly, admiring the mountains as you pass over them, the stars as you pass under them. It is a journey that leaves you breathless.

In the distance, you see a physical structure in the skies. It is drenched in starlight, shingles and metal gleaming in the luminescence of the moon. It moves, not particularly quickly, and it gives you an impression that it’s floating — in reality, you and Howl are just moving faster.

As you get closer, you see the final details. In some ways, it has a haphazard sort of construction, parts melded together that you may not see in any other capacity. There is a piece that reminds you of a humble home in Kingsbury; another is made of iron, prominent screws to hold the helm together; the bottom is older, perhaps fashioned of a bronze or copper alloy. Flourishing trees grow from the sides, adding a much-needed scape of nature among the otherwise mechanical design. It has wings, like those of a bat, in its side, imbued with a consistent and powerful magic.

You feel breathless, your mouth opening at the grand scene before you. “This… this is…” 

“Your Floating Castle,” Howl says, leading you closer.

“So it really does exist,” you say, admiring his home as you land securely at his front door. “It’s certainly not what I expected, but I’m impressed. You built this?”

He nods. “If the thing you want doesn’t exist, you make it. The possibilities are endless with the right magic.” He turns the knob and opens the door, inviting you inside. “After you.”

You step through the door and up the short flight of the stairs. You find yourself in the kitchen of a modern home, supplied with the finest appliances and furnishings. The wooden floors are smooth and polished, the wallpaper new and maintained. There is a fire burning in the corner of the kitchen, and you remember why you are here.

“Go on,” Howl says. “It’s just a fire demon.”

“An _all powerful_ fire demon to be precise!” The flames burst into a fierce blaze — eyes, a mouth, and little arms appear.

“You must be Calcifer,” you say. “I’m delighted to meet my very first _all powerful_ fire demon. You’re certainly the strongest I’ve ever met and the most handsome.”

“Oh, I like her, Howl.” He studies you. “How did you end up with a girl like her?”

Howl raises an amused eyebrow.

“Actually, better yet,” Calcifer continues, turning back to you, “what makes you want a guy like him? You should have seen this place before this week. I’ve never seen him clean so furiously before. I mean, all he did was snap his fingers around with his human magic, but, man, oh, man — he worked for it!”

You laugh. “Is that so?”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with a clean home, hm?” Howl says.

“But you cleaned for me? Were you expecting to bring me here?”

“I thought it best to leave my options open.”

“Hey, lady!” Calcifer says, blazing again. “Come a little closer, will you?”

“She has a name, Calcifer,” Howl says. “If you’d behave in a courteous manner, she would perhaps give it to you.”

The fire demon rolls his eyes toward you, the obvious question in them.

“_____,” you say. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” 

“_____, then,” he says. “Oh, I see. You’re a witch — you got a lot of potential in that pinky finger of yours. Howl doesn’t usually go for magic-users.”

“Why not?” you ask.

Howl chuckles. “Witches are far too clever to me,” he says, his hand resting at your waist. “I just couldn’t resist you and your charms, darling.”

“Oh, you are a flatterer.” You look toward the remainder of his home. “Can I have a tour?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

He brings you into the yard attached to the kitchen. There is a garden of vegetables and herbs, no doubt assisted with magic and a grassy lawn that wraps around the bricked portion of the home. You find a teenage boy and his dog as they play. Howl introduces them as Markl, his apprentice, and Heen.

You shake Markl’s hand, but when your eyes fall on Heen, you can’t help but take a step back. “Is that dog who I think he is?”

“Oh, yes,” Markl says with a grin. “Madame Suliman’s dog.”

You kneel down to pet Heen, who was begging for belly rubs. “I can’t believe you,” you say to Howl. “You not only escape Madame Suliman with a bounty on your head, but you steal her dog, too. I recognize him from pictures in her office.” 

“I did no such thing,” he says. “Heen chose to be a part of this accidental family.”

The tour continues.

Howl’s Floating Castle is an interesting one. There are countless rooms to explore, many of them unique beyond the applications of everyday life. There is one room that is void of gravity. “For you,” Howl explains, showing you a panel next to the door. “You may control the gravitational forces in this room to best assist your practice of levitation.” 

“This is for me?” you say, looking at him in disbelief.

“I want you to feel welcome, especially if I’m to be your thesis mentor. I figure I may as well make myself useful.” 

“That’s so thoughtful of you, and the design is ingenious. Thank you.” You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. It would be far safer to practice levitation in here, and the ability to manipulate gravitational forces in the room will allow you to experiment as you research and write your thesis.

“You’re welcome, love.” He kisses your head and pulls you along for the remainder of the tour. 

You wander into Howl’s main laboratory. There are bottles, vials, and chemistry equipment everywhere, notes scratched into the very wood of the tables. Stains of failed experiments, even spilled materials cover the countertops. There are concoctions bubbling on the workbench farthest from the entrance. As you step inside, you feel a little lightheaded. 

“Perhaps it’s best we don’t stay for too long. The fumes from the potion simmering in the back are intense.”

“What are you working on here exactly?”

“I am trying to find an all-cure for poison.”

You cough. “Through suffocation?”

“A minor challenge. There are charms to assist my breathing if I am working in the laboratory for long stretches of time.”

The tour becomes stranger. 

There is a room that produces bubbles of every color and size — they are even edible, each bubble a different flavor of fruit or candy. You ask why this room exists, and Howl merely shrugs. He says he had an idea and wanted to make it a reality. It is as if this place is nothing more than the result of a passing thought.

Another room is humid and hot, plants thriving within its recesses. Apparently, a lot of exotic materials to be used in potions and spells can be harvested from such an environment, so Howl keeps this room specifically for those species. 

He even shows you his own bedroom. It is the most elaborate of them all, trinkets and toys dangling from the very ceiling, covering nearly every inch of space. You sense a vast pool of magic as you walk inside — many of these items must have magical properties. It is almost overwhelming, how they all speak to you, whispering ancient secrets and riddles.

It becomes obvious to you that this man lives and breathes magic. His passion is apparent in this creation he calls home, and he takes great pride in it.

You are, of course, charmed by all of this. 

“What do you think?” Howl asks.

“It’s all so whimsical,” you say. “Living here must be like a new adventure every single day. I’ve always wondered what it’s like to wake up every morning and be surrounded by innovation and possibilities.”

“Would you like to find out?”

You look at him, noticing a flirtatious glance in his blue eyes. “You want me to stay the night?”

“It’s your choice.”

There is a slight reluctance in your heart, but you are also interested. You raise an eyebrow, testing his resolve and reaction — he continues to give you an artful expression, a subtle desire beneath his gaze. You feel it, too, and your curiosity must be sated. “Yes,” you whisper, pressing into him for a kiss.

He seems pleased with your choice. “Come here, love,” he says, gently pulling you into bed.

You think you could love a man who loves magic.

* * *

You maintain your GPA. Despite the amount of time you spend with Howl, his knowledge and expertise is invaluable to your education. He is able to explain even the most difficult concepts in a practical manner.

It is not the most careful decision, spending every moment you can with Howl. He comes to see you often, disguised as this or that, ready to sweep you away. He is creative in his selections. Once, he cloaked himself as an old man, which surprised even you; another time, he took the form of a pigeon.

You tell your friends you are going home most weekends to study with your mentor. They are accepting at first, but after a few months, you think they begin to miss you. 

You say your mentor is shy and prefers to keep to himself, which is why they may never meet him. They look at you suspiciously, but there is nothing they can do. Lorena seems to accept your decision, while Tedric and Cassandra are more vocal about wanting you around.

Your evenings are spent studying feverishly, sometimes in groups, sometimes on your own. Whatever you can get done at the academy is time saved for Howl. 

Your relationship evolves in ways you never think it could. He reveals to you his experiments, his hypotheses, his studies — this is an intimate part of himself that he chooses to share. You are fascinated, drinking in every piece of information he gives you. You learn more from Howl in these upcoming months than you did from your five years at the academy. 

It is not just magic that he teaches you. He is skilled in the art of words, of romancing. His hands are deft and sure, and he lures you into his bed at night with tender kisses and affectionate gestures. You learn of passion and love, ecstasy so intense that it leaves you gasping for breath and crying for more. Howl only obliges, tending to you with his lips and fingers, his body hot and moist with sweat. 

It is like a magic of its very own, the way your bodies intertwine, the way he fits into you, the way his skin feels smooth against yours.

You are in love, and you show him every night you spend with him. Practice makes perfect, after all, and in your eyes, the time you spend together is just that. 

Sunday evenings, you are regretful as he brings you back to the academy. He kisses you goodbye and never tells you exactly when you’ll see him again. Howl can only come when it’s safe, and, of course, you want that for him.

“When do you think you’ll be able come?” you say tonight.

He brings your hand to his lips. “Whenever I can, love.” He gives you another flower. This is one is a deep, majestic purple, its petals the shape of hearts that revolve around a golden center.

“I’m going to run out of room for these flowers, Howl,” you say as you admire his handiwork. You had to resort to hiding them in a vase in your closet — otherwise, nosy Cassandra would ask too many questions.

“Better find a larger vase, then. I may just have to teach you a holding spell.”

“A holding spell just for flowers?”

“Why not? We can create another dimension that is perfect for maintaining cut flowers. It will be crisp and cool, filled with sugar water.”

“It will be one of your more practical inventions.”

He chuckles. “Goodbye, sweetheart. I will see you soon.”

You breathe in, watching him disappear into the night. You miss him already. As you step inside the dormitory, you nearly bump into someone.

“Cassandra,” you greet, hiding the flower behind your back.

“I saw,” she said, arms crossed, tapping her foot. 

“You saw what?”

“Don’t play dumb, _____. It’s that mystery wizard you met at the Thirsty Mustang months back. I’d recognize him anywhere.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? So you have a boyfriend. It’s not like you’re breaking any rules.”

If the matter weren’t so serious, you’d laugh at the irony of her claim. “I just… I’d rather not anyone know,” you say.

“Oh, _____, you’re afraid of hurting Philemon’s feelings, aren’t you?”

You could run with that.

Cassandra touches your arm. “All right, your secret’s safe with me. I know you’re not leading him on, but he does ask about you quite often, especially on the weekends. I think we might need to work together to sneak you in and out of the academy. You know, I’m surprised you haven’t told me sooner. I make a great wing-man!”

You are relieved that Cassandra is open to this. Your only fear is that she enjoys gossiping, so you make sure to leave as many details as you can out of your conversations, afraid that they’ll leak through the grapevine somehow. You balance this with giving her enough information so that she feels special and sated with your secret.

At least, Howl’s identity is still secure.

You show Cassandra the flower Howl gave you just now, and she admires it. “Did you ever find out how he does it?” she says.

“No, actually. He says if he tells me, his gifts won’t be as special anymore. Perhaps he’s right.”

She smiles at you. “I’m sure you’re not with him because of the flowers. But he makes you happy for other reasons, huh?”

You nod and sigh, a dreamy expression on your face. “He does.”


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are faced with an important choice between your education and Howl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> First, thank you to those who commented: Sigil novice, VanitasLight, FannibalToast, flyinginstinct, and temporary_hamlet! I enjoy reading your comments. ^_^
> 
> Second, the end of this chapter is NSFW. I'm not normally huge on writing smut, but I was at this awkward juncture where I could either have a super long chapter and finish this story completely or I could divide it up with a bit of extra content instead. I chose to do the latter because I figured you'd all enjoy it. ;) So please do!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!

Cassandra is right. To your surprise, she makes a great wing-man. She covers for you when you miss out on study sessions and even passes on some of the knowledge that you share. She also assists you with your community service initiatives, sometimes even heading volunteer opportunities on the weekends. 

Truthfully, you think she fears not knowing the business of others so much that she’s willing to keep any and all of your hard-earned secrets as long as you give her all the juicy details.

You are careful about Howl’s identity. When you tell him about your roommate finding your secret, he shrugs it off and suggests that you make something up to establish consistency. (He also jokes about erasing her memories, which you donʼt find funny.) You agree with him — at least, this way, Cassandra feels informed, and you no longer have to worry about accidentally revealing his name.

You call him Ambrosius Aurelianus for all intents and purposes in her presence.

“I’ve never heard of such a wizard,” she says. 

“Do you know the names of all wizards and witches in Kingsbury?” you say.

“No, I suppose not.”

“Ambrosius is a private person. He doesn’t much like the company of others and prefers a quiet life.”

“But apparently, he’s a genius.” Cassandra is studying the notes you’d given her to assist with this weekend’s study session. “I never would have thought to explain transmutation this way.”

“He really is quite good at magic.” You pack up the rest of your belongings. “I’ll share what I learn with you.”

She gives you a smile. “Have fun, _____. I’ll let everyone know you’re in for a rigorous weekend of study with your mentor.”

“Thank you,” you say. “I knew I could count on you.”

This arrangement works for you and Howl for the remainder of the semester. Your friends wonder where you are, and you simply blame your disappearance on your studies. Although they may be suspicious, there is little they can do.

“Only Philemon seems particularly bothered by your not being here,” Cassandra says. “But that’s just because he likes you.”

“That’s too bad,” you say. “I wish he’d find someone else to ask out.” Since your first date, he had invited you on two others, both of which you had politely declined, stating you had studying to do.

Philemon even offers to help you with your levitation thesis, which is kind of him, but you insist you do not require the help.

You learn that his metamorphosis thesis is going well. He had always been skilled at transfiguration, which is often considered one of the more difficult arts to master. You figure he may very well by the one Madame selects as her apprentice.

During your semester finals, you remain at the academy to focus on your exams. You miss Howl every day, but you know how important it is for you to do well. Once you graduate, you want as many options for a career as possible.

While you’re not sure what you want to do, you know you want to use your magic to improve the lives of others. You refuse to be a domestic housewife, which is the norm in Kingsbury. Most women define their lives by marriage — being a good wife and bearing many children is of highest importance.

Living in a male-dominated society is less than ideal, but it is the world you must live in.

Fortunately, the industry and art of magic seems to be the exception. Here, men and women are on a level playing field. In fact, many women hold positions of power where magic is concerned.

On the final day of exams, you are summoned to Madame Suliman’s office. The last time you were there was for your apprenticeship interview, which was weeks ago. Truthfully, you had forgotten about it.

You knock on her door.

“Come in.”

“You summoned me, Professor?” you say as you step inside, shutting the door behind you.

Madame Suliman is sitting in her wheelchair by the window, and she smiles at your approach. “How are you doing, _____?”

“I’m good. I think my exams were successful, which means my winter break should be relaxing. How are you?”

“I am well.” She tilts her staff toward her desk, upon which is a pile of papers. “Those are your transcripts, recommendations, and accomplishments during your five years here. You are an impeccable student, and your thesis on levitation and flying is an ambitious one. I am looking forward to seeing where you will go with your talents.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you say. You have an idea of why you’re here, but you don’t wish to be presumptuous. 

“I had over forty applications for my apprenticeship,” she says. “I’ve combed through them all — only about ten impressive students received interviews, you among them. I am pleased to offer you the apprenticeship position.”

You feel the glee bubbling inside you. “Madame Suliman, I am so honored.” And, then, you think about Howl. He and Madame Suliman have a long history together. By accepting her offer, you would be working closely with someone who wishes to do him harm. Also, you would also be constantly lying to your mentor, who is searching for him, hoping he answers for his supposed misdeeds.

Was this an arrangement with which you wished to burden yourself?

“But?” She senses your reluctance.

“I think I need a little time to consider it, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, _____. What is your hesitation?”

“I’m at a crossroads,” you say honestly. “I certainly don’t want to delay your selection process, but I don’t want to say I’m committing to your tutelage if there’s something else I want to do. It wouldn’t be fair to you, Professor. If you could give me a bit of time to think about it, I would appreciate it.”

She nods gracefully. “I understand. Take the winter break to consider it.”

“A whole two weeks? That’s generous of you.”

“I am a patient woman, and you must decide if this is truly what you want. Otherwise, you’re in for a grueling few years.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you say. “I will have an answer for you when we return. Have a good holiday!”

“You as well. And _____?”

You stop as you are about to exit. “Yes?”

“Who did you say your thesis mentor was again?”

“Oh, his name is Ambrosius Aurelianus.”

“I don’t believe I’ve heard of him.”

“He’s a bit of a hermit, I’m afraid.”

“How did you convince him to mentor you?”

These questions seem pointed, and they make you a little nervous. You try to keep your composure and take a breath to calm your senses. “He’s a family friend,” you say. “I don’t think he would have been willing to mentor anyone else. He did it for me as a favor.”

“Very well,” she says. “I look forward to your response.”

You can’t tell if she believes you or not.

* * *

You tell your family you are staying an extra week at the academy for your thesis, when, in reality, you’re spending that time with Howl. You live with him in his home, his Floating Castle, enjoying every moment you have with him.

“Howl?” you say on the last evening as you’re cuddled in bed.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he says, as he tinkers with a kaleidoscope, infusing the beads inside with magic.

“I want to ask you something.”

He peers inside the kaleidoscope. “What is it?”

“Madame Suliman has chosen me to be her apprentice.”

“Did she?” He removes the kaleidoscope and looks at you. “She’s a dangerous woman, _____. I recommend staying far away from her.”

“I understand you didn’t have the best experience with her.”

“Well, she is the reason for this bounty on my head. I’d certainly prefer to have zero relations with her. I sense you don’t feel the same.”

You sigh. “It’s complicated. Studying under Madame Suliman is a dream for any student of Kingsbury’s. You know this — even you accepted an apprenticeship with her for a time. If I studied with her, I’d be opening up opportunities in the future I may not have otherwise.”

“Is that what matters?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the opportunities. The aristocracy makes life a game of politics. They say you can only make something of yourself if you are born of certain status, if you have connections or wealth. By choosing to study with Madame Suliman, you are condoning this corrupt system.”

“What’s the alternative, Howl? I’m going to the most prestigious magic academy in all of Kingsbury — it’s selective and expensive. Is that not condoning the system, too?”

“It is, but there are few ways to learn magic from a young age. Magic academies are a practical substitute for traditional apprenticeship. Wizards and witches can generally only mentor a handful of students, while an institution has the resources to educate hundreds, if not thousands.”

“All right,” you say, sitting up and peeling the blankets off. “Again, what’s the alternative? If I need to learn magic so I can do what I want to do with my life, am I supposed to turn down the best education just to condemn the system? What good will that do? Doesn’t it make more sense for me to get my education and eventually arrive in a position where I _can_ make those changes?”

Howl takes your hand into his, gracing it with a kiss. “You can learn from me, love,” he says. “I can teach you everything.”

You hesitate. While his offer is generous, it is also risky. Howl is effectively a criminal — at least, that is so in the eyes of the king and his law. Legalities aside, if your relationship ever soured, you would no longer have a mentor. With such a formal arrangement, if Howl were apprehended, you could be accused of abetting a criminal. From your perspective, while studying with Howl was a wonderful opportunity, you needed to have reservations.

Falling in love was easy enough, but the cultural and social climate here was not kind to women, and especially not to ambitious women. You had to insure yourself against the event of unfortunate circumstances.

Objectively, committing to an apprenticeship under Howl was not the wisest option.

You squeeze his hand, letting your eyes meet his. “Howl, I don’t want you to think I’m choosing Madame Suliman over you—”

“But aren’t you?” The gleam in his eyes wavered.

“No, of course not.” You feel heartbroken — you think he looks like a sad puppy you’d just kicked in the ribs. “Please understand. I have to do what’s best for my career and future. It doesn’t mean you can’t be involved. I want you in my life.”

“I do understand,” he says, kissing your hand again. “It is selfish of me to insist otherwise. You’ve already put so much at risk being here with me.” He slides off the bed, buttoning up his shirt. “Come with me, darling.”

He leads you to his study, a room filled with books and scrolls, charms and trinkets. It is like a smaller version of the Kingsbury Academy of Magic Library, though many of the copies here are original. He clearly enjoys collecting meaningful resources, especially those belonging to figures of importance.

At the top of one of the shelves, there is a small vase with a single white flower. Howl flicks his wrist, and the flower is lifted from its container, hovering down toward you.

You accept it. It is plain compared to many of the other artifacts in this room, but it feels real, a subtle magic imbued in its petals. “What is this?” you say, wondering why this flower was so plain compared to the others he had conjured. 

“It’s for you,” he says. “I want to make sure I give it to you before you leave for home.”

“I’ll see you in a week,” you say.

He pulls you into an embrace and kisses your temple. “I might have to disappear for a while, love.”

“Why? This is so sudden.”

“I fear I’ve overstayed my welcome. You’ve probably seen a resurgence of wanted posters and soldiers on patrol. There are whispers in the city that Madame Suliman is looking for me again. She knows I’m here, and it’s only a matter of time before she’ll find me.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, Howl. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I’m only staying as long as I dare, and I may not be able to return to Kingsbury for a while.” He touches the flower in your hand, and a faint light emerges, only to fade away after a few seconds; he then touches your forehead, and the same thing happens. “This flower is enchanted and tied to you. When you want me to come for you, it will bloom again, growing into something even more beautiful.”

“You’ll only come then?” Your heart hurts. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“It’s not you, sweetheart. We both need to be safe.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Whenever the flower blooms.”

You stare at the flower in your hand, wishing it would bloom right now. Nothing happens. “I miss you already,” you say. 

“We still have one more night.” Howl kisses you, his fingers tracing your jaw. “Let’s make the most of it, hm?”

His soft whispers are all you need, providing enough temptation for you to fall into his arms. His hands are on your arms, and they slide to your back, trailing down your spine. It makes you moan into his mouth as you savor his flirtatious caresses.

Howl picks you up, ensuring that your lips are connected, the passionate kiss never interrupted. He returns you to the bedroom, sitting you down on his bed.

Your hands are tangled in his beautiful blond hair — it feels like silk between each of your fingers. He smells elegantly of sandalwood and jasmine, like a tamed sun that occasionally enjoys a bit of chaos. It turns you on.

He pushes you into the mattress, his lips leaving yours to kiss your neck, his tongue running along your skin, teeth gently nipping and pinching.

You tug on his hair as you adjust yourself beneath him, granting him access to your tender neck. Your hands drift to his shirt, and you begin undoing the buttons, pausing every so often as Howl tends to a particularly sensitive spot.

His shirt comes off easily, and it’s carelessly tossed over the side of the bed.

You touch his chest as he leans over you, fingers running over the contours of his shoulders and collarbone, even over his nipples and stomach. His skin is wonderfully smooth and warm, his physique sleek and lean. 

Howl unties the weave in the back of your dress, pulling it down, first past your shoulders, your breasts, and then your waist and hips. You kick off the bundle of cloth, leaving you in your undergarments. 

You immediately reach for the waistline of his pants, unbuttoning it and lowering the zipper, only to reveal the much-anticipated bulge within his underwear. Before you can remove it, Howl catches your mouth in another kiss, and you taste something sweet on his tongue. It is like a piece of cinnamon candy, spicy and fragrant.

He passes it to you and whispers against your lips, “Swallow it.” 

You do as he requests, and you feel a warmth sliding down your throat. You want to ask what it is, but you decide to edit yourself. Perhaps this will be a fun surprise.

Howl unclasps your bra, revealing your breasts and two perked nipples to welcome him. He rolls a nipple between his thumb and index finger. 

The sensation seems far more intense than you had ever experienced. “H-howl, what’s going on?”

“Something magical,” he says. “You’ll enjoy this, love. I promise.” He begins to tease you, drawing out desperate mewls of pleasure with even the faintest touches. It feels like a sensuous fire — heated but without the pain.

As he kisses you again, he grinds his throbbing manhood between your legs, each forward push of his hips causing a wave of carnal delectations through your body.

You cry out. If this is only the foreplay, you have no idea how you’ll manage the intercourse.

“You sound ready.” Howl kisses your neck again as his hands remove your panties.

You reach for him, pulling down his underwear. His erection practically springs out as it clears the waistline. You grasp it, running your thumb from the tip and along the length of it over and over again. 

Howl groans, setting his jaw, as he pushes you back into bed. He rolls you from your back and onto your stomach, pulling you onto your hands and knees by your hips. He settles between them. Without a warning, he penetrates you from behind, shifting upward to fill your wet entrance.

You stretch to accommodate him, and you feel an influx of utter pleasure coursing through your veins even with that single thrust. Your body seems to shake with him inside you, buried tightly within your folds.

“Can you handle it, sweetheart?” he whispers into your ear as he nibbles at your earlobe. “Or shall I stop?”

“You seem excited yourself,” you say between gasps. “Can you even stop if you tried?”

He pauses for a moment, hands running along the small of your back to your bottom. “No, love. I don’t believe I can.” His voice is low and sultry, a provocative tone in his words. He thrusts into you at a firm pace, and you give an aroused scream, nearly collapsing onto the mattress. He has to grasp your hips to prevent you from sinking completely.

You have no words for this. The passion consumes you, that lush fire kindling in your core. It sparks and smolders, leaving you in a state of ecstacy. You feel each swing of his hips as he thrusts, deepening his advance, manhood stroking your insides with each perfect lunge.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He continues to plow into you, heightening your senses to a feverous pitch. When his free hand rubs against your clit, you cry out, your insides giving way to the first pulsations — they seem to reverberate through your body in a steady rhythm.

“That’s right,” he says, his thrusts never ceasing. “Come for me, baby.” His lips are on your skin, leaving kisses and nips along the base of your neck.

You find yourself gasping and moaning, lustful whimpers escaping your mouth. The sensations intensify, and you throb chaotically around him, spurred on by his desirous encouragement. It washes over you, leaving you feeling hot and cold, numb and satiated at the same time.

Howl tugs on your hips, leveraging the angle for his pleasure and drills into you, carrying you through your orgasm. When he finally peaks, he shakes, burying his erection as deep as it will go, and he grunts after a few moments.

You both collapse into the bed as he exits. 

“What kind of magic was that?” you manage to say, feeling breathless.

“The kind that will keep you wanting more,” he says, pulling you close, your bodies covered in a light layer of sweat. “You do want more, don’t you?”

“You’re shameless.”

He chuckles. “Perhaps, but so are you, moaning for me like that. You should hear yourself.”

You blush, warmth rising to your cheeks. “It just felt so good.” 

“As it should, sweetheart. You deserve the very best orgasm we can muster.” He smiles devilishly at you. “Multiple, if we can.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Howl…” You are cut off as he kisses you, his hands delving between your legs, sending shivers up your spine.

You are in for a sleepless night.


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You miss Howl terribly, and with the start of your final semester at Kingsbury, you have a lot of decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the final chapter is here! I'm glad I was able to get this finished in about a month -- that was my goal! :'D
> 
> Thank you to those who left a comment last chapter: allucinoctis, misho, sigil novice, FannibalToast, VanitasLight, starrypadfoot, and Isuna! I've most sincerely enjoyed reading your comments!
> 
> Please enjoy this last chapter! <3 Comments and kudos are always appreciated. I have a few questions for you, dear readers, in my end notes. If you'd be so kind, I would be very much obliged if you would take a few minutes of your time to respond. Thank you for reading! <3

You return to the academy after your winter break. Your heart is sore, having been away from Howl for so long and knowing you may not see him again for a while. You miss him, his tender touch, the way he smells, his low, sensuous voice.

Already, you want him to come for you, to whisk you away in his Floating Castle. Every day, you look longingly at the flower he gave you, hoping you could will it to bloom. You have no success, and you wonder if Howl’s spell truly works.

As you tend to the white flower, placing it in a small vase with water, you hear a knock at your door.

“Welcome back, _____.”

You look up. “Oh, hi, Philemon,” you say. “How was your winter break?”

“It was productive,” he says. “I mostly worked on my thesis. I assume you were busy, too?”

“I was. I spent time studying and writing between celebrations with the family. You?” You turn back to unpacking your book bag.

“Much the same. My parents like their holiday parties, so I couldn’t avoid them all.”

“Why would you want to? You’re so good with people.”

He laughs. “I needed the time to work on my thesis, of course. I hope you were able to make good progress. You’ve been so consumed all last semester. Maybe you’ll have some time for your friends.”

You smile at him. “I think so.”

Philemon’s eyes glance toward the flower. “What’s this? It’s a rather sad-looking flower, don’t you think?”

“I’m just trying to bring it back to life.”

“It seems familiar,” he says, eyebrows knitting together as he studies it. “It feels… It feels like the same magic that shady wizard uses. You remember him, right? That suspicious man we met at the beginning of the semester at the Thirsty Mustang.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, continuing to organize your books. It would be best to feign ignorance.

“No? He gave you a flower, remember?” Philemon’s glance is one of suspicion. “Ah, well. You know, I have a theory. You’ve probably seen those wanted posters around town. That wizard bears an uncanny resemblance to Howl Pendragon. I bet it was him, weaseling around at night, trying to steal hearts. Madame Suliman says she has sensed him around lately. Hopefully, they’ll finally catch him.”

You are silent. His words offend you, but if you say anything, you know you risk your secret.

“What’s wrong, _____?”

“It’s nothing.” You are quick to recover. “I’m just thinking about levitation, is all. I’ve been getting better at it. I’ll have to show you when you have some time.”

Philemon doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason,” he says. “I just worry about you.”

“That sweet of you, but I don’t understand why.”

“You’re always out and about nowadays. With Howl Pendragon on the loose, you should be careful.”

“I can take care of myself. Please don’t worry about me.”

“All right, then. Are you free this weekend for dinner?”

You look at him, noting the subtle longing in his eyes, and you sigh. You can’t avoid his invitations forever. “I’m sorry, Philemon. I just… well, I’m just…”

“You’re just not interested,” he finishes for you, his gaze falling to the ground, a forced grin on his face. “That’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry. I wish I had the courage to tell you sooner.”

“You were trying to spare my feelings, and I refused to take your hints. I was only hopeful, but I guess things weren’t meant to be.”

“It’s just a tough time for me,” you say. “Between the thesis and trying to decide what to do after graduation, this final year had been incredibly busy.” 

“But thereʼs someone else, isn't there?” 

You blink dumbfoundedly. How could he possibly know? 

“Cassandraʼs not a great liar. I know sheʼs been covering for you. No one works quite _that_ hard their sixth year.”

“Bless her heart,” you say. “She’s really helped me out.”

“Who is the lucky man?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. He’s not a student here.”

“I see.” Philemon’s eyes dart over to the white flower. “We’re having a gathering tonight to go over thesis defense. You’re invited, of course.” He then leaves without a goodbye.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Your priority is to protect Howl’s identity. You suppose it doesn’t much matter whether or not the academy is aware that you are in a relationship — if Cassandra somehow let out this information, you’d at least want it to be consistent with what you’re saying. Otherwise, people would start asking questions.

Truly, you hope Philemon doesn’t take the news too hard. You certainly don’t want to cause any pain or awkwardness, and although you have no romantic feelings for him, you consider him a friend.

You gather your things. Tomorrow classes begin again, and you owe Madame Suliman a response. 

You had thought about it over the winter break, turning over the possibilities in your mind. You considered the benefits of being her apprentice, imagined the endless possibilities to your education upon graduation. 

With Madame Suliman’s advocacy and support, you could pursue any career you want, whether that means working for the king or starting your own business ventures. You could bring about the change you wish to see in the world by helping others, improving the plight of women, and making magic available for anyone who desires to study it.

But Madame Suliman’s apprenticeship no doubt comes with its challenges. Her intentions of capturing Howl, still, after all of these years, concern you. You wonder just how deeply her ambitions run and why she is so resolute on his arrest. Is she so insulted by Howl leaving her tutelage that she would see him behind bars? Or is there something deeper you should be considering?

You aren’t sure what you will say tomorrow; you are glad you have at least one more night to sleep on it.

* * *

You find yourself in Madame Suliman’s office the next day during lunch. Your hands are folded politely in front of you, your head held high.

“I hope you had a relaxing winter break,” she says, as she magically wheels behind her desk.

“I did,” you say. “Did you, Professor?”

“I had plenty to do at the castle. The king has many new projects for me to oversee. I am hoping I may delegate some of those tasks to someone whom I can trust.” 

You hear what she means. “I have my answer.” 

“And what is that, _____?”

“I want to thank you for your very generous offer, but I have decided to pursue other opportunities upon graduation.”

Madame Suliman looks surprised for a moment. “I see.” Her eyes crinkle, and she smiles. “I think you should do whatever you think is best, and if that means keeping your options open, so be it. Do you know what it is you wish to do?”

You shrug your shoulders, and there is no lie in your uncertainty. “Not yet. I may spend a few years finding myself, doing a bit of soul searching. Maybe travel. Or I may go right into the workforce and learn that way.”

“You are a talented witch, _____. Your future is bright no matter what you choose. It is a shame, though. I was hoping to have the opportunity to teach you my secrets.”

“I was very tempted, Professor,” you say. “It is a dream to work with such a highly regarded sorceress, the best in all of the land. But I don’t know if I want to remain at Kingsbury Castle for the next few years, and I certainly don’t want to commit to you if I am not one-hundred percent sure this is what I want. As you said, I’d like to keep my options open, and I hope you may offer the apprenticeship to someone else who is more deserving..”

“I can respect that. There are other students who are also well-suited for the position.” She nodded her head toward you. “Very good, _____. You are dismissed. I wish you luck this semester.”

“Thank you, Professor.” You sweep your finest curtsy before you walk out the door.

As you leave, you feel a weight lifted off your chest. It turns out you are pleased with your decision to not study with Madame Suliman — you have made the right choice. Now, if only you could tell Howl.

The rest of the day is uneventful. As a sixth-year, you have a bit more latitude in how to manage your schedule. Officially, you are finished with the credits necessary to graduate. This last semester, you are taking a few electives and focusing on your thesis.

“Philemon seems really mopey,” Cassandra says as you walk out of your last class of the day together. “Do you know why?”

“Well, he figured it out.”

“That you’re seeing someone else?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “I didn’t intend for him to, but I wasn’t going to lie to him. I’m sure he’ll be fine, though. He’ll find some lucky girl, and they’ll be the perfect couple.”

“Oh, it’s never that easy, _____. Heartbreak can last for a long time.”

“I feel bad. I really do.” And although you don’t say it, you know none of this is your fault. “Unrequited love hurts, I’m sure.”

“I think it’s worse than most. I’m pretty sure Philemon has had a crush on you for years now. It must be devastating for him.”

You click your tongue, feeling the vestiges of guilt. “I guess I can talk to him.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Cassandra smiles. “Are you coming out for a drink?”

“You go on ahead,” you say. “I’ll catch up.”

You make your way back to your dormitory room, where you want to take a peek at the flower. It is still stark white, gleaming in the candlelight when you summon a flame. You are disappointed — you had hoped that your decision to not study under Madame Suliman would somehow trigger the flower to bloom and bring Howl back.

The night is young, however, and you promised you would join your friends tonight at the Thirsty Mustang. You lock your room and start off into town.

You have a good time, celebrating the start of the final semester with other sixth-years. You sit with Cassandra, Lorena, and Tedric, laughing and swapping stories of your time at Kingsbury Academy. Strangely enough, Philemon is not there — this is particularly odd since he is popular with the entire class. Nevertheless, there are plenty of drinks and appetizers, singing and dancing, cheers and memories.

But you can’t seem to enjoy it. You only have one thing on your mind.

_“Howl.”_

* * *

That night, you can’t sleep. Cassandra is snoring, the effects of her multiple glasses of whisky prevalent in her dreams.

It must be early in the morning, and you climb out of bed as quietly as you can. You grab the flower and its vase, walking from your room to the balcony down the hallway. The pale moonlight is soothing, and it reminds you of the many nights you’ve walked these skies with Howl. 

The petals seem to glow, but the flower does not bloom. You feel your heart seize. It almost hurts how much you miss him. 

What’s worse is how you don’t know whether or not he’s safe. 

When you ventured into town, you noticed the wanted posters, the soldiers alert and searching for him. He had been safe up until now, but spending time with you jeopardized him. Somehow, Madame Suliman is able to detect his presence around Kingsbury Academy.

As much as you want to be with him, you are glad he is far away. Perhaps it is a good thing that the flower has not bloomed.

You sigh, touching your fingers to the petals. They feel like silk, cool and smooth against your skin. You bring it to your nose and take a deep breath, reminiscing in its slight floral perfume.

“There you are, darling.”

His voice brings you out of your contemplation, and you blink, turning around to see Howl. You are stunned. “H-howl? What are you doing here? I thought you’d be far away from here by now.”

He steps from the hall and into the moonlight. It glistens in his hair, highlighting his beautiful blue eyes. “I wanted to see you,” he says, coming closer, but he doesn’t close the gap between you as he usually does, sometimes literally sweeping you off of your feet.

His hesitation makes you suspicious. “What are you doing in the dormitories?” you ask. Howl wouldn’t return so soon, and if he did, he certainly wouldn’t stride through the residence halls undisguised. There is something wrong here.

“I thought we could go for a stroll tonight.” His voice sounds right, but the cadence of his words is not quite what you remember.

You take a step back, distancing yourself. “I think I’d much rather stay here. I have class tomorrow, after all.”

“Then why are you out here?” he says. “With the flower I gave you, nonetheless.”

And it clicks for you. There is only one person who has suspicions about the flower. He also happens to be studying metamorphosis as his thesis, one of the more talented students in the art of transfiguration. “Why are you doing this, Philemon?” you say.

“So it’s true.” His impression of Howl begins to fade as he shifts from his facade back into his own body, the flesh contorting in the slightest of ways until he has returned. “You are fraternizing with Howl Pendragon.”

There is nothing you can say to refute his statement. Instead, you glance at the flower in your hand. This is the evidence — it is possible to glean information from a magical object. A skilled witch or wizard can determine what kind of magic is used and, by analyzing how a spell is cast, dissecting the many layers of magic and witchcraft, potentially discover who cast it.

You begin muttering a spell, attempting to set the flower ablaze. If you and Howl are meant to be, he will find you some other way.

But Philemon is too quick. He swipes his hand upward, and you freeze, unable to move. Your lips and vocal cords are not free from his spell, rending you unable to speak. Even your lungs are still, delaying precious oxygen in your bloodstream. He plucks the flower from the vase, searching it over. “I knew it. You couldn’t forget him, could you? I knew something changed about you that night.”

You want to say something, but the petrification spell is strong.

“You’re too good for a rogue like that. He must have stolen your heart. I should have realized it sooner.” Philemon waves his hand, and you are able to breathe again.

“What are you doing?” you say, gasping for breath. “I know you are coming from a place of care, but this is insanity.”

“How is it insanity? You’re running off with the most wanted criminal in Kingsbury. Is that where you’ve been all last semester? All those lies about studying and working on your thesis? You were with Howl Pendragon?”

“He’s been mentoring me. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want anyone to worry.”

Philemon studies you. “Of course everyone is going to worry. You should have come to me. Pendragon is dangerous.”

“No, he isn’t. He may have abandoned Madame Suliman for personal reasons, but he’s gentle and kind.”

“What personal reasons, _____? He gave his heart to a demon in exchange for power.”

“He got it back.”

“How can you be so sure?”

You are livid on Howl’s behalf. “Because he loves me,” you say. “And I love him.”

Philemon stares at you, a dumbfounded expression on his face. “You _love_ him? He must have you under some sort of spell.”

“That’s ridiculous, Philemon. You can’t tell me what to feel or what to think just because Madame Suliman doesn’t like him. Let me go right now. You have no right posing as someone else to trick me into giving you answers.”

“I’m sorry, _____,” he says, reaching for your face. Warmth radiates from his hand. “You need help beyond what I can give.”

And you begin to feel drowsy, the effects of his sleep incantation taking hold.

* * *

You awake with a terrible headache, a dull pain that seems to plague every thought. Your memories are foggy; you do not recognize your surroundings. You are not in your room, nor the medical wing of Kingsbury Academy.

Sunlight leaks through the edges of the curtained windows. You roll off of the bed, walking over to them and peek outside. The garden is lush and green, vibrant shrubs pruned in perfect form. A fountain with stallions rising from the center brims with water, splashing into the pool below. You recognize it from when you came to visit Kingsbury Castle.

_“Philemon.”_ You groan at the recollection of your conversation last night.

As if on cue, someone knocks at the door. “Miss?” he says, a boyish voice. “Madame Suliman is ready to see you.”

You understand your predicament. Philemon must have explained what happened to her, and you are now here for an interrogation.

What can you do? 

You know you will not betray Howl, but that is just about all you know. You look to your right hand, noticing that your ring is missing, the medium through which your magic flows. It would only make sense for your captors to take it from you. You are helpless without your magic, unable to escape or fight.

“Miss, I must insist. Madame Suliman is waiting.”

You open the door to see a boy. 

He is slender, hair cut at the jawline, garbed in the clothes of an elegant servant, cravat and all. His grey eyes seem lifeless — truth be told, they spook you a little.

You don’t say anything, even as he politely gestures for you to follow him. 

He doesn’t seem offended. “This way,” he says. He leads you down a hallway. The carpets are plush and clean beneath your feet — it doesn’t seem like many people tread across them. The wallpaper is primp and even, the molding along the floor and ceiling in superb condition. Down the stairs you go, the carpet transitioning to marble.

You reach a set of arched double doors, arcane symbols etched out in the fine wood. They are so ancient, you only recognize them from photos in school texts. The doors open at your arrival. 

“Ah, you’re awake. Come in, _____,” a familiar voice says.

With a breath, you step through the doors, and soon as you clear them, they shut. This is a large chamber, almost like a sunroom, brilliant windows stretching the entire length of the walls. The floors are polished to perfection, gleaming with sunlight. A forest grows in the background, a beautiful pond with koi fluttering in their watery home. 

Madame Suliman sits in her wheelchair, her staff in one hand, your flower in the other. “This flower has been imbued with a fulfillment spell,” she says. “It is not material in your curriculum, but it is easy to understand, nonetheless. A wizard may select a condition to be fulfilled, and once it is complete, the flower will bloom again. The white is elegant but plain — I’m sure you wish to see what it will become.”

You are not surprised. If anyone can look at a magical flower and understand its purpose, it would be her.

“I recognize this enchantment because I created it,” Madame Suliman continues, “and I’ve taught it to only a handful of apprentices. Howl Pendragon is among them.”

You stiffen at the mention of his name, but you do not say anything. You wonder if it is best to remain silent, to both protect Howl and not incriminate yourself by association. 

“Philemon tells me you’ve been fraternizing with Howl.” She grins when she sees your consistent expression. “Don’t be angry with him, _____. It was my idea. He was sincerely concerned for your well being, and when he mentioned the flower in your room, I suggested he do some investigating — his metamorphosis is quite good, isn’t it? I provided him with photos and references, and he made quite an impression, I imagine.”

Your gaze falls to the ground. You were so foolish. You should have kept the flower hidden away. Your sentiment got the better of you, and now both you and Howl were jeopardized. 

“You’re a bright woman, _____, the best in your class. I refuse to believe someone as sharp as you would fall for Howl’s charms and empty promises. He is a danger to himself and the people of Kingsbury. As such, he must be apprehended. Surely, you understand that?”

Again, you say nothing.

“I hope you understand the severity of the situation. I believe you are the reason why Howl was in Kingsbury for so long this past year. If you do not cooperate in this investigation, I will be forced to detain you. Your attendance at Kingsbury Academy will be cut, your diploma withheld until you act as a citizen of our fair city and do your part to protect it.”

Her threats are not idle, and this is what you fear. What kind of a future would you have if Madame Suliman were made an enemy?

“You care for this monster?” she says.

“He’s not a monster.”

“He can only learn from his mistakes by returning to me, serving the throne in a proper fashion. You claim to love him, and if you do, you will save him from himself by aiding me in my search.”

You will not betray Howl. “Do what you want with me,” you say, finally. “I can’t give you anything.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“I won’t.”

The flower in Madame Suliman’s hand glows, engulfed in a pale light. The white petals are cast off, one by one, drifting elegantly to the floor. They are replaced by a rapidly growing plant beneath them, this one with petals as dark as the night sky — the colors are like a galaxy, swirling with blues and purples, diamond-like stars glittering across each tapestry. It is the most beautiful flower you have ever seen.

She looks scornfully at it, willing it to burst into flames.

You watch the ashes fall to the ground, a faintly regretful pulse in your heart. This flower is meant for you, after all. Although you hope Howl does not come for you in this moment of danger, you are pleased to see it finally bloom at your declaration of devotion.

He is right — Madame Suliman is dangerous, calculating, and self-righteous. She is presumptuous in threatening you with your diploma. You have worked hard these past six years to learn magic, and it would be devastating to have your efforts be for naught.

“Howl Pendragon is a monster and a coward,” she says, “and if you refuse to cooperate, you are abetting a criminal.” Her eyes harden.

You are silent, glaring at her. This sorceress whom you idolized since you were a child now earns your ire and resentment.

“Guards, take her to the dungeons. She may need some firm persuasion.” 

You grimace as two royal soldiers grab you roughly by the arms, securing your hands behind your back with cuffs.

They lead you away, one standing on either side of you as they march you through the doors.

Fear gnaws at you. The thought of being confined in a dungeon is intimidating, but you know this is an attempt at coercion. You are brought to a set of stairs that descend into the darkness, the air below the castle moist and close — it smells of mildew and mold, the stink of human bodies and their excrete filling your senses. Your stomach turns.

Then, the soldier to your left groans and falls, collapsing to the ground.

You flinch, crying out in surprise and reflexively jumping to the side, bumping into the remaining soldier. 

“It’s been too long, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”

His voice nearly brings tears to your eyes. “Howl?” Sure enough, when you turn around, you see him. His blue eyes, as clear as the sky on a cloudless day, are a relief to you. He is dressed in a royal soldier’s uniform — you wonder how you hadn’t noticed him before. “How are you here?”

“The flower bloomed,” he says. “I knew you needed me.” He runs his hands along your arms, and the handcuffs come undone, dropping from your wrists.

“It’s not safe here,” you say. “Madame Suliman—”

“I know, love.” He presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. “It’s time to go home.”

“Home?” You watch him with disbelieving eyes.

“Of course.”

“You really want me to move in with you?” 

“Would you rather stay here, sweetheart? I’d much rather have you by my side.” He takes your hand into his, gracing it with a kiss. “They took your ring, I see.”

“Oh, that’s not important,” you say. “I can get another medium easily.”

Howl removes the ring from his index finger — it is a red gem set in a polished band. He breathes on it, and it shrinks in size, the band becoming thinner and more elegant. Then, he grasps your left hand, slipping it onto your ring finger.

“Howl…”

He kisses your hand again. “What do you think? I think it suits you, and there is plenty of magic in this little ring for you to use as a medium.”

You can’t help but embrace him, throwing your arms around his neck. “Oh, Howl,” you say, cherishing the warmth of his body, the smell of jasmine and sandalwood in his hair. Your anxiety melts away. “Thank you. I think it’s perfect.”

“Let’s go home, _____. Let’s go home to your Floating Castle.” He kisses you and leads you out of the dungeon.

You are finally on your way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. ^_^ Thank you for coming on this magical journey with me!
> 
> When I finish a fic, I want to know how you all enjoyed the story, so I have a few specific questions that have been on my mind throughout this writing process. This helps me become a better writer and continue to provide material for you in the future in a way that most matters to you. I tend to make changes afterward, see how I feel about the changes, and then do my best to improve. I appreciate your time and honesty if you'd be so kind to give me your feedback. Respond to as many or as few of the questions as you'd like.
> 
> 1\. Present or past tense? This is my first time writing a full-length chaptered fic in present tense. I had fun, but switching between present and past time for my other fics was a bit of a challenge. Does one tense over the other matter to you as a reader?
> 
> 2\. Reader character? How do you feel about this reader character? Is she relatable for you? Does my writing with her thoughts and emotions feel contrived or forced? What about her quirks and actions?
> 
> 3\. Would you be interested in a sequel to Floating Castle? While I make no promises, I do see the potential for a chaptered sequel.
> 
> 4\. Chapter length? Each of these chapters was, on average, about 3,560 words in length. Do you feel this is too short? Too long? Just right? No preference? Generally, do you prefer longer chapters that are updated less often? Or do you prefer shorter chapters updated more often?
> 
> 5\. Original characters? So, most predominantly, we have Philemon and Cassandra. I have this bad habit of creating OCs because I can -- it's dangerous. lol. Thoughts? Are they annoying? Compelling? Do you think Floating Castle could have done without them? Do you generally prefer fanfiction to have fewer OCs? What is your preference?
> 
> 6\. Magical references? I made up a lot of stuff that isn't necessarily canon. If I can't find an obvious answer with a quick Google search, I starting making things up. Examples of this include the use of a medium to cast magic or how invisibility works in this world. What are your thoughts on my improvisation? Do you prefer I avoid making things up? Or are you okay with this creative process?
> 
> 7\. Overall thoughts? Please feel free to leave any other thoughts or comments about this fic as a whole or even just the final chapter. I enjoy reading them!
> 
> Again, thank you so much for your time! I had a lot of fun making this rewrite, and I hope my effort shows. If you enjoyed this, please consider sharing it with others who love Howl, too! ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://imgur.com/PyS0jBQ)   
> 
> 
> [The Relationship Between Online Readers & Writers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383389/chapters/59099869) | [Motivation and Appreciation for Writers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383389/chapters/63784138) | [How to Write the Best Feedback (With Templates!)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383389/chapters/64183057)
> 
> I would also like to draw your attention to my raffle to thank those who have left or will leave future comments on my works: [An Expression of Thanks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227408/chapters/47937112). If you like raffles and enjoy having your fanfiction requests fulfilled, take a look. ;) I encourage you to check it out! This occurs monthly, so there is always an open raffle. 
> 
> [Tumblr](https://penguiduck.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/penguiduck) | [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/ypdii) | [DeviantArt](https://www.deviantart.com/penguiduck) | Discord: yahtzeedii#2882


End file.
